So Darkness I Became
by DenyingTheTruth
Summary: Paige has been on a downward spiral for awhile now. After opening up to the entire world of her painful past on Total Divas, she thought it would get women talking about the issue. Instead, it got someone else talking. Someone that she wanted nothing more to do with, ever again. Can she escape the darkness that is consuming her? Or will she drown? Rated M for content, language.
1. Prologue

**Spoiler Alert Story!**

 **Yeah...yeah, I know. I'm back. I just watched the newest Total Divas episode, where Paige admits to a deep secret that nobody else knows about. So if you haven't watched the episode that aired on April 5, 2016, you should not read this yet.  
**

 **That being said, her admission sparked this whole thing. I've currently been focused on a Seth/AJ story, called Yours to Hold. It's pretty rad. I've also got one OC/Reigns story that I've completed, and I've hit a dead end with the part 2 of that one. Soooo, here's a new one for basically no reason. :)**

* * *

Paige took a deep breath as the credits began to roll for one of the last couple episodes of the Total Divas television show.

She knew, deep down, that talking about a huge issue that so many women experienced in their lifetime was somewhat heroic. When a woman goes through the loss of a baby, she generally feels alone. Like she'd done something wrong...like she'd never be able to experience the joy of having a maternal bond ever again. By bringing it up on camera, she hoped to motivate women to _not_ bottle up the emotions that went along with such a horrific struggle. She also hoped that it would show that no matter where you come from or what you do, sometimes things like that just... _happen_.

Giving a stretch, she got up off from the black leather couch at the apartment she currently shared with her dear friend, Chelsea, from her younger days. Chelsea was very rarely home, as she did tons of charity events and even more local art exhibits. Both leading busy lives, it was the perfect situation for each of them. Chelsea wasn't interested in paying for an apartment herself when she was never certain how much money she'd actually be bringing home, and Paige just simply wasn't home enough to pay a huge rent. Although, she supposed, as of late, she was home much more often; she took a few steps back once the debut of her other NXT frontwomen hit the main roster.

She was exhausted, both from constantly filming and in-ring work. Then, throw in a few movies, a terrible break-up, and the birth of Rosa Mendes's daughter...and everything seemed like she was drowning in the darkness. Too much was going on for her all at once, and she just didn't want to deal with it.

So she was home. For now, anyways.

Her phone buzzed once on the cherry oak table beside the sofa, startling her, she bent down to grab it, seeing that it was a text message from Foxy. She, too, had been taking time off, though for her it was more of a family illness than anything else.

 _ **OMG girl. You know you can tell me anything. Proud of you. LYLAS.  
**_

Unsure of how to respond, Paige tossed her phone back down, ignoring the loud sound it made but silently praying she didn't accidentally break it. She decided to say nothing...at least for now. After all, Fox had plenty of drama in her own world. Plus, the miscarriage she'd gone through when she was 19 was so long ago...and for the most part, she'd grown and gotten through the trauma and shock it had sent her in.

That being said, she knew it was unlikely that she would be able to have a child, and to see her friends begin to grow up, get married, and begin to have families, she kind of felt _.._. _Jealous?_ No, that wasn't right...inadequate, perhaps. Like for whatever fucked up reason, she wasn't good enough to reproduce. Of course, she knew that she was still young and focused on her career, but just thinking about the future in general frightened her. She knew in the world of professional wrestling, she couldn't put all of her eggs in a basket. Careers could be cut in half, should she land wrong. She could be fired on the spot from the WWE, especially if she continued on her downward spiral into drinking and cursing.

For Paige, nothing was certain right now. And that was scary.

Once more, her phone buzzed, notifying her of a new text message.

 _Fuck off, Foxy,_ she thought to herself. She'd literally forced herself into a shitty mood, now that she'd been over-thinking her life and where she wanted it to go one day. Deciding that it was unlike Alicia to text her numerous times in a row, she glanced at the screen. A phone number popped up that she didn't recognize...

She knew who it was, although she wished that she didn't. She figured this was coming, the verbal ass-kicking she would be receiving. After all, it takes two to make a baby...

 _ **What the fuck is up w/ u divas blabbing to the world about ur problems? Did u ever think that it could ruin me?**_

 _Fucking dickhead,_ Paige thought bitterly. She had half a mind not to say another word to this douche. Things were already weird between them whenever they were forced to be in the same vicinity.

 ** _Never said your name. Won't do a thing to your rep...just mine. But fuck me, right?_**

She waited for a response, anger growing in the pit of her belly. She just imagined him reading his message in his cozy hotel room bed, his pretty little girlfriend just an arm's length away. She would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes she'd wished the little fling between the two of them turned into something more. But that was all it was: a fling. And those were his conditions, of course. She was young and stupid, and even though Paige knew it sounded cliche as hell, it was never more accurate.

She slid back down on to the couch, reminiscing the time she'd snuck into the men's shower room when everyone else had left the FCW training center. When she'd let him bend her over against the icy tile, the steamy water splashing around them. She remembered watching as her black makeup streamed down the drain, thinking that maybe he'd want to give a real relationship a try...

Except, of course, he didn't want to. And he often made that very clear. Still, she held out hope that maybe she was reading him wrong. But with this particular person, that didn't seem to be the case. With him, what he said was what he meant, and like a stupid, idiotic, pathetic little girl, she fell for him. And of course, she got crushed by him.

 _ **P...come on. But be realistic-were from diff worlds. Cant have mine crash around me bc of your mouth.**_

Snorting, Paige rolled her eyes as she was gripping her phone tightly, wanting nothing more than to toss it against the wall at full-force. Her rage was at an all-time high, now more than ever. Go fucking figure that this guy would catch wind of her televised sob story and _still_ make her out to be the bad one. Deciding she could use one of those cold beers she had tucked in the back of her refrigerator, she opted to put her phone down instead of shatter it.

How did she still manage to get so pissed at him, so many years later?


	2. Chapter 1

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **That being said, her admission sparked this whole thing. I've currently been focused on a Seth/AJ story, called Yours to Hold. It's pretty rad. I've also got one OC/Reigns story that I've completed, and I've hit a dead end with the part 2 of that one. Soooo, here's a new one for basically no reason. :)**

* * *

"Fuck!" Paige groaned as she pulled off her shiny, black Doc Martens in the women's locker room. She tossed each boot lamely in her bag, knowing fully well they hadn't even landed near the opening.

She'd completely botched the end of her match against Summer Rae, her mind completely in a different universe tonight.

In fact, her mind had been in a strange realm for a little bit over a week now, ever since _he_ sent her a few texts. She still sometimes thought that she shouldn't have revealed her troubling past to the whole viewership and, essentially, the WWE Universe. At the time, she truly believed that she was being strong, giving voice to something that so many women had experienced, but so few had the means of support to fall back on when it happened. The only reason it'd even been brought to light was because of her dear friend, Rosa, whom she was trying to throw a baby shower for. Yet, all Paige could think about was: _Why couldn't that have been me?_

True, if she had a child at home, she wouldn't be able to do half of what she was doing now. Especially being so young. She wasn't sure she'd even be able to wrestle, and she supposed that in itself was something to be grateful for. But still...her past had been haunting her for a long time now, she'd been eluding relationships _because_ of the whole situation...

Her problems stemming from her messy past, the constant limelight, the camera crew filming so much, the downplay of her role as one of the main participants in the "Diva's Revolution"...everything really felt like it was all beginning to fall down. If it wasn't for Foxy and Rosa, she'd have lost her damn mind by now; but both women had their own problems to deal with, and now, Paige was left all alone. She could go to Nattie, but again, she had enough to deal with...

Her place within the WWE right now was pretty shaky, too. How many more heart-to-hearts with Road Dogg could she really bullshit her way through regarding her "immature behavior?" How many times would she be jobbing to women who had no business in a ring at all? How many fines could she accumulate for dropping the f-word during a Q&A? She could pretty much see any sort of championship reign in her rear-view mirror at this point. Shoot, she even tried to gain attention from the uppers on the writing staff by knocking boots with the likes of former champion, Alberto Del Rio. When that last plan fell through, she cut him loose quickly, knowing that she would end up hurting him eventually, anyways.

Her head was all kinds of fuzzy lately.

The door creaked slightly, and the cameraman followed the tiny little interviewer, Jojo, as they neared Paige. Hoping her angry glare was enough to scare them back into the hallway, she shot them a look from hell. Unfortunately, Jojo still asked for a "word" with her, being her sweet, naive self.

 _What Paige wouldn't give to be like that once again!_

"Fine, shoot. But I haven't got all day," Paige responded, not bothering to mask her frustration.

"Well, Paige, we just saw you lose yet again, this time, to Summer Rae. A year ago, we saw you at the top of the mountain. Nowadays, you can't seem to get a leg back up. Do you have any plans for progress at this time?"

Paige snickered, knowing full-well that Jojo was being fed lines by her least favorite writer, the one she told personally to "fuck off and burn in hell" when he'd tried to stick her in a love-triangle story with fucking Dolph Ziggler. As much as she wanted to call him out on his bullshit, she thought for a moment how to best respond to this attack.

"Well, Jojo...I guess it's true I've fallen a few steps. But now, all I see is up...and at the very top is that evil witch, Charlotte...who, without me, would still be losing to Bayley on NXT. So once I get back into my own rhythm, I'm prepared to push her off the top, and send her straight to the bottom, where she belongs."

Jojo seemed satisfied with that answer, so Paige excused herself, ready to get a quick shower in before heading out for the night. She kind of hoped that soon, she'd be able to take more than a three-day break from this chaos. She needed badly to unwind, get a plan going to get her out of this rut. Disappear off the map for awhile. In fact, she could ask Stephanie to be written off TV with an injury or something...surely, it'd be granted. Paige had proven to be more of a headache than what she was worth right now...

Yeah, that sounded good. A break from the constant run-around, a break from cameras, from filming, from botching matches...clearing her mind sounded lovely.

Until then, well, she could really use a beer.

* * *

 _Five years prior.  
_

She didn't actually think he was looking at her...like that.

She was only 19, after all. And he...he was one of the greatest stars of the modern era. A WWE future legend, a shoo-in candidate for the hall of fame once he finally hung up his boots. And even though she had a sturdy wrestling background of her own, she never in a million years expected to catch this guy's eye. He, too, had wrestling in his genes.

Good-looking, smart, cunning...he was every woman's dream. Paige would admit, sure, she'd shown off in the ring the couple times he'd glanced her way. She was just beginning to find her in-ring persona, clad in black shorts, a studded belt, and a black studded top to match. She wasn't fully confident in her appearance-but she knew she had the moves down. And that in itself was enough for her to make this guy look twice.

At first, he'd shown a genuine interest in NXT diva, Charlotte Flair. Of _cours_ e he did; she was tall, ridiculously beautiful, and blonde. Paige should've seen it coming, she supposed. Charlotte was approachable, though very naive at the time, and everyone knew that this asshole was going to walk all over her. But just as quickly as that rumor started, it faded away. Charlotte had approached him, and he'd brushed her off, citing her very famous daddy as the sole reason that he _couldn't_ and _wouldn't_ get tangled up with her.

Charlotte, of course, was beside herself: It was unusual that someone she actively was pursuing would turn her down. Paige kept it quiet, but she saw it as a personal victory. Of course she liked Charlotte, how could you not? But it was nice to know that there was someone that wouldn't hop into her hotel bed simply because of who she was, and who she was related to.

But shortly after, he began to aim his attention towards _her_ , and she was completely flattered, to say the least...

She knew the details of their little deal. No strings attached; she kept quiet what was going on between them. She was to never tell a soul about the late-night hotel visits. She was to pretend that he didn't exist at all.

But the nights they spent together became frequent, and the more she was with him, the more she found she actually enjoyed his company. The more she thought to herself that, if he'd just give her a chance, she might be able to give him more. Paige had brought up the possibility of a relationship only once, however, and he laughed, telling her she was "cute." And that fucking _hurt_.

Which was why, when Paige heard that he began dating someone, her heart was shattered. She'd overheard the prick telling Hunter about how he felt that, for the first time in a long time, he was happy. Why couldn't she be the one to change his mind about love? Had she not done everything he'd asked? Did she not get on her knees and suck his dick anytime he asked her too? Didn't she pant his name like a sex-kitten as he pushed himself between her legs?

 _Why wasn't she good enough for him?_

But that's what she'd signed up for, right? She was the dumbass who caught feelings, even though she was well aware of how it would end. She began to distance herself from him, opting to ignore his booty-call texts. Choosing to spend her evenings with Becky Lynch, sharing a room, than by herself. She purposely began to go to the training room in the evening, because she knew he was often one of the first people lifting weights in the morning. Yeah, she'd taken extreme measures to cut him completely out of her life.

Until one day, she realized, she _had_ to talk to him. And when she'd finally texted him, after successfully avoiding him for a week, he had been pretty salty. Paige didn't let on that she knew he was involved with someone, although somehow, he probably knew she'd figured it out.

She recalled telling him that she'd missed a period, and he was furious. She had assured him that it was most likely the crash diet that she'd been on, changing the patterns of mother nature. Between the new diet and the ridiculous exercise plan that her NXT trainers had began her on, it made sense. But then, she began the many trips to the bathroom, vomiting up anything and everything that touched her lips.

It wasn't until she was pale-even for her-and weak to the point where she could not properly do her in-ring training that one of the other FCW/NXT divas pointed out that maybe she ought to take a pregnancy test...just to be sure.

Summer Rae had brought three of them for Paige that godawful day, all different brands just to "be sure." She sat outside the stalls of the training center as Paige peed on all three of the sticks, each one of them confirming the news that yes, she was indeed pregnant.

"This is the fucking worst," Paige had said, her eyes full of tears. She couldn't believe that this was actually happening. Her career hadn't even really begun yet, and here she was, pregnant with a baby that she wasn't ready for with a guy that didn't want to be anything besides fuck buddies. Should she tell him? She hadn't even thought that through yet; knowing fully well how awkward of a conversation this was going to be...

"Oh, honey," Summer consoled her, holding her toned, tanned arms out to give her a enduring, sisterly hug. Summer was older than her by a few years, already in the talks of potential babies with her husband. And even though Paige and Summer didn't necessarily see eye to eye on basically anything, she still showed her loyalty as a friend by being here, helping her get through this...it was almost like having an older sister to fall back on, someone Paige could count on to both keep her secret and help her through all the issues that went with it.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Paige sobbed, letting her tears fall freely, knowing fully well she was getting her salty tears all over her friend's gray hoodie.

"What can you do?" Summer replied, tucking Paige's then-auburn colored hair behind her ear. Yes, she recalled, prior to being the raven-haired anti-diva that gave no fucks what anyone thought, she was Brittani Knight, the sweet girl next door that solely relied on her ability and nothing more to carry her through the world of professional wrestling.

"I can...I don't know," she cried loudly, for a long time, all the while Summer Rae held her close, not asking any more questions. And while Paige knew that the whole locker room suspected who else was to be blamed for creating this...tiny human being that was inside of her, Summer never said or brought up a single word. Even if it was common knowledge, the person in question had the amount of leverage with both WWE and NXT that if he denied having ever even looked at Paige in an unprofessional manner, the world would've believed him over her.

It took everything in her to finally ask him to meet her at her hotel room one night when she'd opted to be alone, no roommate necessary.

"We need to talk," she'd whispered over the phone. It had been two in the morning. "About...that thing."

She heard him sigh an annoyed sigh, agreeing to swing by quickly. "But I'm not going to stay," he warned her. As if that was any different than any other time.

"Don't. I don't care," Paige found herself irritated now, knowing full-well how he was going to play his cards.

She didn't even bother to make herself look cute. She looked messy and horrible, just as horrible as she'd been feeling. Pregnancy was just not cutting it with her. She wore no makeup, the baggiest, hugest sweats she could find, and her long hair sat in a knot on the top of her head, like a ratchet crown.

Whatever.

When he finally showed up, he didn't bother to acknowledge her appearance. He sat on one of the two lame-ass wooden chairs the hotel provided, his arms crossed and looking at the floor.

"How've you been?" she asked quietly, breaking the ice as she hugged her knees to her chest.

"Cut the shit," he said curtly. "It's true, isn't it?"

"What do you-"

"I've been watching you in the ring. Shit, even the trainers are beginning to notice that you look like shit. You're moving slow, you're being overly cautious, and you've been wearing big-ass t-shirts. Not the normal sexy little tank tops that caught my eye to begin with."

Paige had to bite her lip to keep from verbally assaulting him for being an inconsiderate jerk.

"I took three tests. To be sure."

"How could this happen?" he growled, slamming his big, angry fist against the corner table. The pamphlet of coupons that the hotel provided fell to the floor, all the paper slowly gliding in the air until hitting the dark gray carpeting.

"You know how it happens," she replied. "We'd been very careful, though, so I'm surprised..."

"You've got to be kidding me. FUCK!" he roared, standing up, his face turning bright red. He was pacing now, and running his hands over his head. He looked way too much like his in-ring character, and Paige was beginning to grow fearful of what he might do next.

"Sit down...please," she pleaded, slightly cowering on the bed she sat on.

"How can I sit down? You've ruined my life!"

Paige's jaw dropped. "How could you say that? Like I want this? Like this was _planned?_ "

"Who knows? There's crazy bitches everywhere that sleep with guys like me in hopes to get pregnant. You know, money and that."

Paige was now bright-red with frenzy. "Believe me, pal, that's the furthest thing from my mind. The only thing I was seeing in my future is the Divas belt and stacks of money in my spare bedroom. So you can promptly fuck right off."

He seemed to be calming a little, the color returning to his face. "I'm sorry. I really am. But we...we can fix this. It'll be good, for both of us."

"What do you mean?"

"I know a guy. He can get rid of this...problem. Our lives will go back to normal, and we never have to even look at each other again."

"Or...we can try to be together, and see where it goes?" she replied hopefully, knowing she sounded stupid and babyish.

"See, I knew you were aiming for this! I knew you were trying to get knocked up-to rope me in!"

"No, no, it's not like that!" she exclaimed. "I just...I really don't want to get an abortion. Please, don't suggest that."

"Why? That...thing...will ruin both of us. You haven't even begun your career yet, and I'm not ready to end mine!"

By then, Paige's face was streaming with tears. "I don't care...I don't want to do this, but I've got to."

"No, you don't. You're being dumb and childish. What if I pay for it? Would that help?"

"Seriously?" she looked up at him, her voice sounding weak. "How could you do that to your own child?"

"If it is mine at all," he murmured, causing Paige to jump up off her bed, now as close to the man's face as she could get. "Say that again," she threatened. "Because if you do, I'll shove my knee so far up your groin, your dick will come out of your nose. I dare you-say that again."

He shook his head, defeated.

"That's what I thought. You and I both know the only person I've been sleeping with is you. Too bad for me."

He sighed once more. "It's late, and I think we're both crabby and tired. Let's sleep on it, and talk again soon."

"Fine," Paige snapped, looking forward to being alone again. This went worse than she'd originally anticipated, but not far from what she figured.

"In the meantime, P...will you please think about an abortion?"

She scoffed, pushing him-literally-out the door before slamming it shut, careless about which NXT divas and superstars were sleeping in the nearby rooms.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Uh..so who is this mystery man? What'dya all think? Should I keep going?  
**_


	3. Chapter 2

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **That being said, thank you guys for taking the time to read this. I love writing, and I try my hardest to write well. As I've grown older, my style has changed quite a bit from my first stories...and now, I write with much darker themes. So I do apologize if anything I write offends anyone, and I do have plans to make this a pretty dark story.  
**

 **I'm going to try to give this a go again, thanks for the response from the last chapter. :) I love reading guesses about who the mystery man is. And indeed, those who have said "hmm, it must not be Del Rio" you are right, it isn't. I think Paige has lost her mind IRL...like yeah he's handsome, but I don't see what in the world they could have in common. Whatever, love is love. But because I hate that pairing, I'm going to pretend it doesn't exist. You're welcome.**

* * *

"Damn, you'd better slow your roll," Renee Young slid beside Paige at an empty bar stool, where the raven-haired diva leaned on her elbow, her long hair covering her face. She had been swirling her drink with her black straw, though now, mostly ice was left in her glass. Three empty glasses were at the edge of the bar, yet to be collected by the busy barback at the club everyone had congregated to after the show.

Paige didn't look up, still mindlessly watching the ice roll against the fogged glass with each twirl of her wrist. She ignored Renee, not interested in hearing the little "we're all worried about you" talk that producers, family, and friends alike had sputtered her way. Rather than shift her attention to more positive things, Paige could see little to be bright and shiny about; in fact, all she saw right now was a pit that she was falling into, and everytime she tried to crawl out of it, she'd fall just a little bit deeper. Right now, there didn't seem to be a way out. It was like she was being swallowed, suffocating in the darkness.

Wasn't she too young to feel this hopeless? She wasn't sure. She was both upset and angry at herself for the way her career had gone from a boom to a bust in just a few short months. Sadly, the same could be said about her emotional state. Her string of boyfriends and one-night stands was proof that she was a wreck.

"Do you need another?" Renee finally asked gently, her hand on Paige's shoulder, which caused her to jump. She was actually surprised at how soft and quiet the cool blonde's tone was, given the situation. Renee was in pretty tight with Nikki and Brie, who had both given Paige "the talk", and therefore, the youngest Total Divas star was surprised that Renee hadn't been the next to lay it on thick. "I know that latest episode was a big toll on your head. I understand it. And I know things haven't progressed for you in the direction you hope for. Don't get me wrong, drinking away your sorrows probably won't make all the crud in your life turn to glitter...but I can understand if that's what you want to do right now."

Damn, Renee was such a sweetheart. Paige had no choice but to acknowledge her at this point. She raised her eyes to hers, and although the blonde appeared tired, she still managed to look fantastic. Paige, on the other hand, knew she looked like a homeless woman. She hadn't reapplied her makeup from earlier, and she was so lazy showering that it was possible the conditioner hadn't all rinsed out properly, giving off a surely grease-looking effect.

But who did she have to impress?

"I don't understand why I couldn't have been part of the Attitude Era. If I were older, I could be feuding with the likes of Sable, or Chyna. DX would be running the show," Paige rambled, allowing her previous drinks to give her motormouth. It was probable that she wasn't making sense. She chose to continue anyway.

"In that era, I would have been successful. But in this one, I feel like the creative team is stifling me. Afraid to let me do my thing, be the dark soul that I already am. I don't have that pretty, marketable face. I just miss what it was like to be myself, before WWE told me who I was."

Renee rubbed Paige's shoulder gingerly, sympathy quickly washing over her face. "First off, you are wrong on the pretty and marketable thing. I know that's just whiskey talking. You're beautiful-striking, I would say-and different. Isn't your difference from the other girls what got you noticed in the first place? I think what's holding you back is your negativity. I don't personally know, but I can see, how hard it is for the women to constantly be clawing for the top when there's only one title. You might've taken the backseat for now, but I think a few days off and maybe a new storyline could really shake things up for you."

Paige sneered. "I've been hoping for a new gimmick for awhile. I'd love to work alongside some of the superstars, but the writers have completely ignored my e-mails and phone calls. I've overheard a few women say the uppers are trying to move away from the women ring valets and shit, which is understandable, but I don't want to watch everyone else do amazing things while I fuck matches up. Sure, my head's not always clear, but if I had a reason to turn up to work, maybe I would."

"You know what you should do, then? Take a break for awhile. Work on you. Total Divas won't be taping again for a couple months, so you'll have time to figure out your head. Because if you keep running to belly up to the bar after shows, you're going to end up just like Charlotte's daddy-broke, unhappy, and alone."

"Already got two of 'em covered, what's wrong with all three?" Paige mocked, getting up from her stool. "I appreciate our little talk, Renee, I really do. But you've got it made in the shade. So I really don't need to hear it from you, too."

"I'm only trying to help, sweetie," Renee assured, concern now apparent in her tone. "The last thing I want is for you to get suspended, or even sent back down to NXT because you can't contain your behavior."

Paige waved her hand in the other woman's direction, as if trying to physically deflect her words. "I'll be perfectly fine. I always am."

With that, she wobbled her way towards the door, unsure of whether she was even walking in a straight line. She didn't think so: everything seemed to be tilting...how much did she drink, again?

Making her way towards her hotel, maybe, she took a sharp turn towards a darkened road that didn't seem to have any streetlamps. Now, she wasn't sure where she was or how she got there. She turned in all directions, hoping she recognized anything in her drunken state. All she wanted to do was find her room, crawl under the blankets, and pretend that she didn't exist.

"Hey, kitty, I've got a car. I can give you a ride home," said a gravelly voice so close to Paige's ear, her skin began to crawl. She turned to see a bum-ass looking dude, a guy she'd never seen before in her life. He reeked of menthol cigarettes, beer, and possibly vomit.

"That's lovely. I can give you a ride straight to the hospital if you come near me again," Paige warned, ready to break out her real fighting skills she'd learned back when she worked at a bar.

The man took another step towards her, now clearly baffled as to why she would turn down his fantastic offer. His beady eyes flitted back and forth, as if watching the surroundings carefully before he made his next move...

"How about I rephrase that. You will get in my car, and I'll take you wherever I damn well please," he whispered hoarsely, and Paige noticed he had a big black spot on his front tooth...probably decay. She idly wondered if he was on drugs, too; which could explain his pupils being dilated, and why he appeared to be sweating like a pig at the deli market.

"How about you step back, and fuck off?" she heard herself say, drawing closer to the man. Her fists were raised, and he seemed to be intimidated by the fact that she wasn't going to back down. He looked around quickly again, before she saw him make a swift move under the ratty leather jacket he wore. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gleam of a knife.

"I'd re-think that, if I were you," she stated, not letting her voice waver. She knew that they were alone, and the chance of anyone hearing her yell was pretty minimal. But she wasn't a wuss, and she damn well wasn't going to let this jackass flash a knife at her without a fight.

Aggravated, the man took another step towards her, holding the knife against his thumb.

"You know, I don't like that mouth of yours," he growled, circling around her. "It's gonna get you into some trouble. I've got something that can make it stay shut for awhile, though," he gave a creepy smile as he began to unzip his jeans, exposing fleshy in one quick jerk of the zipper. Paige looked up, disgusted.

"On your knees, you little slut," he now had the knife just a few inches from her, his dick standing erect between the two of them.

"Hey, buddy!" called someone in the distance, and the man abruptly turned, shaken that someone else was around. Paige thanked her lucky stars, though she was sure she probably could've taken this sad excuse of a man down herself. She couldn't quite see who the knight in shining armor was, but the creep quickly folded himself back into his jeans.

"Hey, you'd better leave her alone!" called the person. "I'd get the fuck out of here, and quick!"

"Yeah, or what?" the man called back, now holding his knife up by Paige's face.

Now, Paige could see who had found them. It was Dean Ambrose, Renee's lunatic boyfriend. She probably sent him to follow Paige to make sure she got home safely after their pathetic little heart-to-heart. Though she was grateful that she had some backup, she couldn't help but to feel a little sour to have Dean following her like a little watchdog.

 _Thanks, Renee, but no thanks._

Suddenly, Paige was bumped on to her ass, watching as Dean threw fists left and right, making a complete mess of the guy's face. Blood began to trickle on to the pavement, and she was certain that the assailant had a broken nose. His face and hair matted in blood, the guy finally put up his hands in defeat.

"If you ever try that shit on anyone, let alone my friend, just remember my fucking face!" Dean exclaimed, his eyes flashing wildly. Paige kind of saw a scary side to him in that moment, like an inner demon of sorts. It was like he was possessed, mauling the guy like a mama bear protecting its cub.

Finally, the guy put his hands down, and his breathing slowed. He was still breathing, alive but definitely unconscious.

Dean got up from the cool, bloodsplattered ground, eyeing Paige suspiciously.

"First, are you okay?" he asked, his voice changed significantly since the vile sight she'd just witnessed.

"I'm fine. I could've taken him."

"Yeah, bullshit. Second of all, what the fuck are you thinking, trying to walk to the hotel room at midnight? Do you even have any idea where you are?"

"I'm a big girl, Mox," she called him by his former ring name, one that Dean hated, but it gave her pleasure in doing so whenever he'd ticked her off. It was nice to see him shudder. He claimed it reminded him of some pretty dark days of his, and maybe that's why she sadistically enjoyed tormenting him like that. It was easy to grin when someone felt just as shitty as you did.

"Yeah, I can tell. You know, you walked completely opposite the way of the hotel, right? Good thing Renee was watching you leave, and she begged me to follow. You could've been a sliced up pile of hepatitis if it weren't for me!"

"Yeah, thanks for that," Paige shrugged. "Guess I've gotta go live another day, huh?"

Dean's expression changed yet again, now looking sincere as he faced the small woman.

"Paige, listen. You and I are similar. We don't like the flashy shit that goes along with this job. We don't like the questions, the cameras, the parties. Fuck, I don't know how you've been able to stick around with Total Divas for as long as you have. At any rate, my point's the same. We like to be left alone. My in-ring persona is slowly climbing to be what it ought to be, but it's definitely been stifled by the writers. And I'm willing to bet you feel the same way. Before Renee came along, I was sleeping with more women than I ever thought imaginable because...well, I could. But none of that made me feel any better."

"Save your sob story, Ambrose," Paige groaned. "Really. Thanks for making sure I didn't die. I appreciate it."

"Quit your bullshit, Paige. You've got to get yourself out of this mindset, or you're going to wind up unemployed."

"Maybe that won't be so bad."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Listen, all I'm trying to say is that you need to stop putting yourself in danger. Drinking as much as you have been, partying as much as you did...I would hate to see you start doing anything else. All of that can ruin you."

Paige began walking, and Dean was right on her heels. She was trying to ignore him the best she could.

"I've already been ruined," she muttered.

* * *

 _"I'm going to be leaving for awhile," he said quietly, his hand lightly stroking Paige's hair. She looked up, her eyes immediately filling with tears._

 _"Leaving? Where?"_

 _"Well, P, you know I've only been helping out here in NXT for Hunter. Run some classes, help some of the guys out. It was never my intention to stay as long as I have."_

 _Paige got off from the bed abruptly, her hands shielding her naked body. Her lip quivered, amazed that he would abandon her so easily._

 _"But you'll be back soon, right?" she questioned, sounding young and hopeful, even to her own ears._

 _"Maybe," he admitted, letting his own naked body lay freely against the hotel bed. Fuck, he was so damn sexy. Even if he was kind of old for her. The tan of his skin was beautiful against the white sheets, and the inner sexpot of Paige seemingly elbowed her to get her ass back in bed with him. So, she did; letting her naked body mold against his once again, driving out the tears and the sadness that he'd just dropped on her._

 _"And I think," he said quietly, "Once I'm gone...and whether or not I come back to help again...this thing we've got going on is going to need to end. I don't see how dragging it out to be any more than what it is will benefit either of us."_

 _Paige looked up at him, raising her eyebrow. "And what exactly is this?" she questioned, hiding the hurt in her voice, careful not to let her voice crack. She still felt her emotions teetering, and one wrong word might cause a whole meltdown._

 _"This is..." but the man didn't finish, as Paige cut him off by giving him sweet, fluttery little kisses against his hard body. One rule he had-he would not kiss her on the lips. He claimed it was too personal, and it would make her think their relationship meant more than it did. Paige had a hard time understanding that concept, especially since he had slept with her time and time again like it was no big deal._

 _"Paige," he groaned, but she put a finger up to his lips. "Let me make this worth it for you," she said back, diving underneath the sheets to give those same fluttery kisses to other places, as well._

 _They slept together three times that night, and both of them knew it was likely to be the last time they'd ever be able to move their bodies against one another again, to feel the other person's heartbeat, rhythmic with their own._

 _Unfortunately for Paige, she still held on to any strain of hope that one day, and hopefully soon, he'd want to be more. He'd want to try stepping out into the public with her._

 _Things were all gonna crash down._

* * *

Paige awoke quickly out of her dream. Was it a dream? She wasn't even sure. Sometimes, her brain would take her back to the many times she'd stayed in _his_ hotel room, and even though she was sleeping, she wasn't sure if it was just a vivid memory that had actually happened, or a wild sex dream that she hoped had happened.

It seemed to her, though, that anytime she thought of the past rendezvous with that gorgeous man, she could only remember the happy times. It was like her brain only wanted to focus on the good parts of their relationship...even though, aside from fucking, the only relationship they had was a cruel game of pretending like the other person wasn't in the room. She cursed herself, reminding her that _he_ had been a total asshole, the whole reason she originally left the dating scene.

She had loved him, and stupidly.

Paige groaned as she stretched, trying not to focus on the dumb shit that her mind did while she slept. Instead, she had to be more worried about this killer headache. How had she managed to even get into her hotel room last night?

Her phone was blinking, which meant she had a text message.

Still laying in bed, she reached for it, unlocking the screen as Renee's picture popped up as the sender. Meh.

 _ **Paige, we've gotta talk.**_

 _ **Seriously, call me soon.**_

 _ **Really worried about you, girl.**_

Instead of answering any of the desperate messages, she turned her phone off, closing her eyes once more. Working out could wait; right now, she had to sleep off this numbing hangover.


	4. Chapter 3

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **That being said, thank you guys for taking the time to read this. I love writing, and I try my hardest to write well. As I've grown older, my style has changed quite a bit from my first stories...and now, I write with much darker themes. So I do apologize if anything I write offends anyone, and I do have plans to make this a pretty dark story. Thank you for the subs, the reviews, the views...all of it. You all rock.  
**

* * *

Pounding.

Her head was literally pounding.

And it wouldn't stop, either.

Nope, wait...that was the door pounding.

Groaning, Paige stretched across the shitty mattress she was on, already feeling the aches and pains in her lower back where the mattress springs must've been jabbing her all night long. Groggily, she swung her feet to the edge of the bed, pulled her black Spandex shorts to a reasonable length, and zombie-walked towards the door.

"For fuck's sake, I'm coming!" she yelled at the horrible noise.

She swung the door open, revealing Renee Young, who was far too chipper and awake and peppy for what time it was.

"Jesus, Paige, do you have any idea what time it is?" Renee said, her normally cherub-like face turned stern, mother-hen mode in full-effect.

"Um..like maybe eight?" Paige wondered out loud, and Renee wrinkled her nose.

"Try like, three?" she said back, shaking her head. "Jesus, girl. we've got a shoot in an hour, and you look like a nightmare."

"Yeah, the shoot...count me out," Paige walked back towards her bed, falling on to it and letting her black hair fall erratically against the bedsheets.

"Knock it off, Paige," Renee warned, entering the room and gently shutting the door behind her. "You know damn well we've got to do this shoot to gear up for the next season of Total Divas. Quit acting like a baby."

"Maybe I don't want to be on Total Divas," Paige said absent-mindedly, her dark eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling. She wondered if she was looking at a spider on the ceiling. Concentrating heavily on it, she decided it was probably just dust, as it never jutted across the tiling.

 _Wait. I don't remember reading anything for a shoot! But...then again...who knows, I might've completely missed it._

"I love you dearly, and you know that. And that's why I'm telling you this. What happened last night was scary shit. And I don't want to have to report that whole incident to Stephanie, but you know damn well that I will," Renee was being very pointed in her words, and Paige knew she probably should get her ass in gear.

"I really just need to disappear for awhile," Paige mumbled, covering her head with the blanket.

"I understand how things seem for you right now, but disappearing is going to have to wait. Unless you don't want to have a job, of course."

Finally, letting out a low banshee scream, Paige kicked off all of the blankets. "Fine! I'll go to the stupid shoot. Can't afford to lose my job, too, I suppose. But I am most definitely putting a request in for like, a month off or something. Because my mind is in total fuck-shit mode."

Renee giggled as she offered her hand to help the raven-haired beauty out of bed. "I knew you'd see it my way. Now, put on some decent clothes, and we'll take a cab together downtown. We've gotta talk about whatever is going on in your mind."

Paige halfheartedly agreed, waving her hand at the blonde as she stumbled towards the bathroom, her legs feeling unfamiliar and numb. She still smelled of stale alcohol and maybe garlic bread, looking forward to getting the horrendous smells off from her as she ran the hottest of water she could handle.

* * *

Just under a half hour later, Paige emerged, wearing black leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She knew it wasn't stellar, but it was comfortable, and feeling as useless and shitty as she did...well, it would do. Her hair fell in long, black strings around her face, still damp from her shower. She only wore eyeliner, deciding that this shoot would put faux eyelashes and the whole nine yards on for her; the less she had to do, the better.

Renee gave a quick clap for the former Divas champion, getting up abruptly from her perch on the hotel chair, swooping her phone up from the table in one fluid motion.

"I've got a cab waiting for us out front," she said brightly, and Paige wondered if this woman was ever in a bad mood. She didn't think so.

Then again, she had an amazing life. No real storylines, no competition, a kick-ass boyfriend...yeah, she had it good. Paige found herself slightly unleashing the green monster named Jealousy, trying to close the lid tightly before it consumed her. But Renee was the lucky one. And maybe Paige was unique and dark, but really, that hadn't been doing her any favors. She was falling, quickly.

Most the way there, she listened to Renee talk about the way Dean was finally going to get the creative push he certainly deserved. But, she found herself trying really hard to tune out the interviewer, wishing that maybe things would've worked out with...well, any of her ex-boyfriends. But Paige was a free spirit; a wanderer. She had a hard time committing to anything outside of the ring. Though, she thought that maybe she might've committed to...

 _Knock it off, Paige. You were still a baby!_

Finally, they neared a large, perhaps completely abandoned brick auditorium, and Paige couldn't help but to notice that Dean Ambrose stood against the brick wall, quickly putting out a cigarette as though he'd been caught in a heinous act.

"Dean's at the shoot?" she wondered, watching as he ducked inside the old, brick building, raising an eyebrow at the cracking foundation. It seemed odd that, out of anywhere, this seemed to be the place chosen by the stylistic E! to have any kind of promotional shoots.

"Um, well, yeah. He's making some cameo, you know. He can't hid from our relationship forever," she said quickly, looking outside her window and avoiding Paige's sideways glance.

"How'd you manage to talk him into being on camera at all?" Paige wondered.

"I didn't. Dean does what Dean wants, and I can't promise he'll be really nice or a likable guy at all."

Paige considered this, figuring she was fairly similar to Dean in that sense. Although she'd signed on to Total Divas just for a significant paycheck, it didn't make it any easier to have cameras catch her at some of her most private, humiliating moments.

Didn't Dean talk to her about being very alike last night? She actually wasn't sure; her head still a fuzzy cloud of uncertainty.

Didn't she almost _die_ last night?

Paige tried her damnedest to recall and piece together the previous night. She knew she was pretty fucked up, she knew that someone had threatened to seriously hurt her, and she knew that Dean Ambrose had kicked the living shit out of the person who planned her harm. But there were too many missing links, too many missing pieces to comprehend the full flow of the story.

She followed Renee's footsteps, keeping her head low to avoid Dean's stare. She knew he was inside, but she also knew he was probably watching her from somewhere...disappointed in her, just like the whole lot of them. Oftentimes, she didn't give a flying fuck who didn't like what she did or what she said, but given the mess she just found herself in...

"Paige, welcome," said a familiar voice. It was Natalya, who often acted as a mother hen for the Total Divas cast. Being the most seasoned with the company, Natalya often took it upon herself to lend an ear, to train and support, and always spout honest, brutal advice. Paige's head shot up, a confused look quickly crossing her features. Instead of a makeup crew, cameras, and racks stuffed with beautiful clothes that she'd never buy in real life, all of her friends sat in a circle, each of them perched on a metal chair. Renee slid quickly into her own, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she tried to get comfortable in the most uncomfortable of all seating.

"Take a seat," Brie Bella offered her the only vacant chair, which was at the top of their circle. On one side, Dean Ambrose sat; on the other, Natalya. She gave a quick wave to Foxy, whom she was surprised to see-after all, her personal life wasn't exactly one to be jealous of, either.

Nikki Bella kept a forced smile on her face, her lips bright red as always. She wore her neck brace, yet somehow, she still managed to look gorgeous and as put together as ever. Paige suddenly regretted her decision to show up frumpy-it appeared that everyone was dressed nicely, except for her. But she could venture a guess that maybe that was because nobody else was still hung over as she was, given it was so late in the day.

"Guys?" Paige asked quietly as she meekly pulled out the metal chair. "What's going on? Am I in trouble?"

Natalya put her hand on her castmate's shoulder as soon as she was seated. "Paigey, you know we all care about you a lot," Natalya used the lame ass pet name she'd given the dark-haired diva when they'd first met each other in an NXT ring, which wasn't a good sign.

"Oh, fuck me!" Paige exclaimed, realization finally striking her. "I fucking knew there was no shoot! I knew I hadn't been so obliterated that I'd missed something that huge! This is a goddamn intervention, isn't it?"

All eyes looked at each other, and none of them would look into hers. She became furious, standing up and threatening to throw the chair at whoever organized this whole thing. She yelled, carried on, told everyone that they need not worry for her well-being. She was just going through a rough patch in her life. So whoever thinks this is funny should promptly fuck off; as this was not something to joke about in the slightest.

"Paige, listen," Dean Ambrose finally spoke, and she calmed a little. "Yeah, it's a goddamn intervention. Do you know why? You put yourself in serious danger last night. You don't even remember the whole night, do you? And do you know why? Because you were black-out drunk!"

"So fucking what!" Paige shrieked, still standing at the head of the circle. "Leading a drunk life is sure as hell much better than a bullshit one!"

"You wouldn't have a life if it weren't for Dean," Alicia Fox spoke quietly. Paige glared at her, unsure if the only person who wasn't a hundred percent on the progression of events.

"Who else knows about this little get together?" Paige snarled, throwing her hands up in the air before finally slamming the metal chair back to the seated position with a loud, thunderous thunk. She slid herself on to it, still glaring at each individual, one by one. "Don't tell me there's a cameraman hiding somewhere, catching this all for next season's premiere of Total Divas. And if there is, I will rip each of your souls out, one by one-this is my _life_ you guys, this isn't something for an audience to see!"

"And that's a very fair point, Paige," Renee piped up again. "And we don't want the audience to see this side of you. No, there are no cameras. We all know, and we're coming to you before we have no choice but to go on to Stephanie McMahon...or talent relations...to deal with you from there. We're only doing this because we know you're capable of so much more," Renee spoke very softly and directly, yet Paige couldn't help but feel like her friend was playing the interviewer persona she portrayed every single show. This didn't feel as genuine as it should've. These people weren't really her friends, either; as far as she was concerned, her friends were the very same back home in England, who helped her crash college parties and swipe bourbon from her dad's private stash.

"We _will_ go to the next step, though, if you don't acknowledge that there's a problem, and attempt to fix it," Brie spoke now, her own motherly tone apparent.

"Oh, fuck off already!" Paige snapped. "Quit speaking to me like a child! In fact, why don't you go speak to your own child in that ever-endearing voice you just shot at me? OH! Wait, my bad-because you don't _have any!_ " Paige was red with fury yet again, her emotions like a literal roller-coaster. She knew, deep down, she ought to listen, but right now, she wanted to put every single one of those women on the spot, just as they had to her. It simply wasn't fair, and she didn't like it.

"Enough!" Natalya took control of the floor again. "Paige, that was a low blow, even for you. I know you feel like you're under a magnifying glass right now, but we're doing this to benefit you. Yeah, you could've died last night. No, you aren't aware of how so. Fine. But we all see how this is going to go; it'll continue to spiral downward. When is it going to be enough, Paige? When is it going to be too much for you?" Natalya spoke directly to the younger woman now, and Paige caught Brie wiping a stray tear from the well of her eye. _So what if she'd gotten her feelings hurt?_ Paige thought to herself. _Fuck the whole lot of these trolls._

Renee quickly recapped a shortened version of last night's events, and normally, Paige would be embarrassed to hear that she had done such horrible things. Yet, somehow, she had a hard time believing the main character of this story was actually _her._

"You've got to learn to control your alcohol intake, for one," Natalya said. "You don't see it now, but you will: that behavior is pushing every good influence that you have out of your life. And we all know that since Rosa's had the baby, it's gotten imminently worse for you. We know about the struggles you've been through. And love, I don't want to make you feel bad or belittle your situation, because it does suck and it does put a hole in your heart. But every single one of us has had our own struggles and issues, and not one of them is better or worse than yours."

Paige looked up, somewhat defeated. Yes, Natalya was right. But at the same time, it didn't make her feel any better; she had been choosing to drink all of the memories away, party the issues that were underlying in her relationships. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but she also knew that Nikki and Brie used to be huge drinkers back in their early years. No fucking way would a couple of headlining boyfriends and closets filled with designer things could change the shady things that they'd been involved in, too!

"I got my heart destroyed," Paige said quietly, biting her quivering lip. She was not a crier, not at all. And she didn't want to be the big titbaby in this roomful of her peers!

"So did I," Alicia Fox commented.

"Me, too," both of the Bellas chimed in.

"My mom was a dirty, grimy cokehead," Dean murmured. "She sometimes forgot to feed me when I was a kid."

The whole room turned to look at the floppy-haired superstar, who looked to be pensive as he was rolling around in his own mind. Nobody spoke for a long time, and Dean just sat there, pretending as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say.

"See, Paigey, we've all had plenty of issues. The only problem is, we've learned to cope with them throughout the years. You, on the other hand, haven't been fully able to make personal amends," Natalya put her hand on her her shoulder, speaking exactly like she was coaching an NXT talent.

This had to be a joke. It didn't feel real.

"So...what do you want me to do?" Paige asked finally. "Go see a shrink? Get over this guy by getting under a new one?"

"You do whatever makes you feel better," Nikki smiled lightly. "First of all, don't start seeing a new guy until you get your mind and body sorted out. It's only fair. And second of all, I can definitely give you the number to my own therapist...it might do you much more good than you'd realize."

"That's very sweet of you, Nicole," Brie commented. "I think we all know that, for starters, it might do you some good to step back from competition for awhile. I'm not saying you ought to take time off, necessarily. But at least step back from the company. Let some of the newer girls grow, let yourself grow, make things right within...and come back with the same love and passion that you had when you first set foot on Monday Night Raw."

"I've been thinking about having them write me in an injury," Paige admitted, thinking that a break from all of this stress might actually be good. She could spend a week at home, maybe more...yeah, that didn't sound too bad. She missed her mum terribly.

"From the bottom of my heart, I think that would be a good thing," Renee responded. "I just don't ever want to see a repeat of last night, and I would hate to see what could happen if you didn't do this for yourself."

"Promise me, then, that you'll talk to them first thing tomorrow? Give one of the heads of the creative department a quick call, just ask to be written off script for a little while?" Alicia pled with her friend, folding her hands together as though she was begging. "I can't lose you, too," she said quietly. "Losing Rosa and Wade from my everyday life was hard enough."

"Fine...fine. I'll do it. And I'll call my mum for a flight to get back over to England first thing next week. I could use a little family time."

"Thank you," Alicia stood, giving her friend a hug. "Jesus, girl, don't ever give us scares like that again!"

"I won't," Paige replied, and she'd meant it. "When I come back, I'll be just as straight-edge as CM Punk," she cracked a lame joke, and everyone rolled their eyes. Whilst Paige had gotten along well with AJ Lee and Punk, basically the entire locker room hadn't, so nobody laughed or hinted a smile.

"Ew, please, don't," Nikki replied, wrinkling her nose. "I can't stand that hairy animal."

Paige fleetingly wondered if there was a much deeper reason for why her disdain for the Best in the World was at such a high level, though she'd never ask the woman for fear of being forever shunned by the rest of the divas. But, Punk was a well-known ladies man, and nothing really would surprise her. At least, he _used_ to be a ladies man, 'til he'd gotten stars in his eyes over the Black Widow.

 _Hmmm...haven't talked to AJ in awhile. Maybe I ought to._

With that, the group disbanded, little circles chattering among themselves. As usual, Paige found herself standing alone.

But she was a lone wolf, she thought; and she prided herself in that. Still, being the lone wolf was just that: Lonely.

* * *

Okay, so Paige had been more eager than ever to head back to England now that her friends had posted that they were going to one of the largest new clubs in Britain on their Twitter accounts. It was reported that even David Beckham had been spotted in the VIP lounge of it; and it was something she simply didn't want to miss. Though the price for admission was high, she didn't care; people knew who she was, and if she didn't get in for free, she'd whine until she did. Regardless, she had originally meant to ask her mum to set her up a plane ticket later, but she was growing anxious, ready to leave like, now.

So, she called her, even though it was nearing midnight over there. Whatever, her whole family was a bunch of night owls...it was unlikely anyone would be asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

 _Come on!_ Paige silently willed for anyone to pick up the phone. Just as she did so, her prayer was seemingly answered, as the familiar voice of her mother greeted her.

"Hey, mum, I've been thinking about coming home for a week or two," Paige spoke quickly, hoping her mother wouldn't object. The last time she'd been home, her friend Lily had been fighting with her loser-ass boyfriend, which landed the woman on Paige's mum's couch for a month. It wouldn't have been so bad, had Lily not been caught stealing some of her dad's prescription painkillers straight from the medicine cabinet.

"Oh, that's great, hun. When were you thinking?"

"Like...maybe next Thursday or Friday? I just really need a vacation from this place," she admitted, still pretty frazzled about the intervention that had taken place just a few days ago. Sometimes, her mind kept swinging back in forth, unsure if she should follow through with her plan to step back or not. But, if she didn't do as the other women had asked her to, the daunting idea of Stephanie or talent relations getting involved lurked in the back of her mind. And again, the last thing she wanted was for Road Dogg, a legendary tag-team icon, to put her in her place just as he had last year. He'd threatened her with her job then, and she could just imagine that if he'd caught wind of this new story, he'd march straight to his buddy Hunter's office and let him hear it.

All situations sucked ass.

"Oh, dear...your dad and I won't even be in the country," her mum responded, and Paige's ears perked up. "You'll be in the United States?! That'd be great! I can just travel with you guys for awhile, hang out with the family that created me, bond without the cameras and shit."

"No...no, dear, your dad and I have a really important promotion alongside New Japan," her mum explained. "And you're not able to come with. That one's strictly for business...and I'm sorry, but your antics can't lose us this important deal."

"My _antics?_ " Paige asked loudly, bewildered. Now even her own flesh and blood were afraid to bring her along to serious things!

"Oh, you know what I mean. This is just really important that things go well between our family and theirs, Paige. We get the ins with Japan, and it's only uphill for our business."

"I don't think I do know what you mean," Paige said, a obvious, sharp edge to her tone now.

"I mean, we can't have you running through their country, looking like a childish young woman," the voice on the other end of the phone was stern now. "I love you, Paige, but the answer there is no. And don't even think about coming home and having our house to yourself, either! I'll lock the damn thing if I have to. I know what you did to our abode the last time you got to be home alone. It took me and your brother nearly a month to get the foam from your little foam party off from the kitchen tiles on the ceiling! And, someone took a shit in my favorite Jade plant!"

"Fuck, Mum, alright! I get it. I've gotta fend for myself," Paige was irritated, but tried to keep her cool.

"You're old enough now to know when enough is enough," she responded. "Just think things through before you jump. I know you're a wanderlust, a dreamer, and all that...but just tighten up the reigns a little bit. You're giving the horse too much control."

"Thanks, Ma. But you don't need to talk to me like I'm a cowboy," she muttered.

"A real John Wayne," came the reply, followed by a tinkly laugh.

"Who?" Paige asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion, though her mother obviously couldn't see her through the phone.

"Oh, google him. I've got to go. Tell Foxy I said hello."

"Will do."

"Love you, baby girl."

"You, too, ma."


	5. Chapter 4

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **That being said, thank you guys for taking the time to read this. I love writing, and I try my hardest to write well. As I've grown older, my style has changed quite a bit from my first stories...and now, I write with much darker themes. So I do apologize if anything I write offends anyone, and I do have plans to make this a pretty dark story. Thank you for the subs, the reviews, the views...all of it. You all rock.  
**

 **For this chapter, I'm going to take into account some real-life news and making it my own. So...sorry not sorry.**

* * *

Paige sat at a shoddy table, eating a cheese sandwich as she watched her frenemy Charlotte Flair puff her boobs out and flip her hair extensions as she spoke to Alberto Del Rio.

Normally, she wouldn't be bothered by the blonde, but Charlotte knew damn well that Paige and Berto had been shacking up together on and off for the last few months; even giving the impression to fans that there might be more to the pair. In fact, they'd even gotten tattoos together. Maybe not her brightest moment, but he'd had Paige a bit tipsy on tequila that night, and in a pledge to him, she'd tattooed the word 'Papi' on her finger.

Whatever.

She'd been texting him for the last few days, hoping to get her cobwebs cleared. In short, he was excellent in the bedroom, and she really just wanted him to rock her world. It had been far too long since she'd been with anyone, and maybe doing the dirty dance would change her attitude. Since the stupid-ass intervention her friends had staged for her, Paige had been even more angry and down than she was prior. Especially since her mom had given her the no-go on coming home.

So while she wanted and hoped to take time off from her life, it just didn't make any sense. She could either hang out in a hotel room by herself for a month, watching her peers rise and fall in the company as she took a back seat and observed...or she could just follow them along the road, maybe getting under the covers with a mid-carder and walking out on them in the wee morning hours.

She watched with an evil eye as Charlotte leaned in to Berto, focusing on his deep, dark eyes. The same ones that she herself had been fixated on...she watched as Charlotte turned his hand over, scribbling something-a phone number? On the palm of her fuckbuddy's hand, something that seemed so very middle-school minded. She stood up abruptly, ready to confront the two. Seriously? How fucking _rude._

"Er...hey, Paigey," Natalya swung into her table, quickly placing a bowl of fruit down as she pulled out the empty chair nearest to the raven-haired diva. "I don't mean to be rude...but I didn't expect you to be here," she said, her eyes looking at Charlotte and Del Rio, noticing immediately that her friend had been giving them the stare-down the whole time.

"I didn't expect to be here, honestly," she replied, not turning her gaze once towards the Hart heiress.

"So...you didn't talk to creative? You're not on the card tonight, so I assumed that you had..." Natalya continued, trying her hardest to turn Paige's attention from Charlotte's flirty fake eyelashes.

"No, actually," Paige finally turned to the blonde, who was geared up already for her match against Dana Brooke. "I called my mum, who said I'm too irresponsible to sit at their house while they're fucking around in Japan. So, not only do my friends think I'm a total loser, my own damn family does, too," her tone was angry, each word a hint of a razor as she spoke. She wanted Nat to feel the pain that she did, and she hoped she made that very clear.

"Why don't you stay with AJ? I'm sure she could use the company while Phil gets ready to fight," Natalya spoke quickly. "In fact, that'd be a great idea...he's probably really busy training, and she could use-"

"No, that's okay. She should be able to be in happy, wedded bliss with her husband, away from this place. Away from me. Besides, even if she is sitting in Chicago by herself, I'm certain the last thing she wants to do is babysit her former tag team partner. She's got enough going on as it is."

Natalya sucked her teeth in, understanding the younger woman's argument but still not liking it. "I know what you mean. But right now, being here is doing you absolutely no good. You're not in a good spot emotionally, and I hate telling you this, but it'd be better for you if you weren't here."

"Why?" Paige finally found herself shouting, and Natalya shushed her. "No, I won't quiet down," she responded immediately, her emotions high already. "I'm so sick and tired of hearing how I should live. Yeah, I'm young and wild. No, I'm not a threat to anyone. If I'm a threat to myself, so fucking what? That's on me, don't you think?" While Nat didn't respond, Paige noticed she'd grabbed the whole room's attention, and people were beginning to whisper among themselves.

Natalya's voice was calm, surprisingly, when she spoke. "I know you're frustrated, Paige. I get it. But you need to realize that you are a product of the WWE and you should conduct yourself in such a way. So, you should consider that before you ruin your career over childish antics. You don't want to burn a bridge with this place."

"Why not? TNA is always hiring," Paige was joking, of course; but the way she'd said it sounded sincere. Like she'd given it thought. Like it was a potential back-up plan.

"Yeah, until they don't exist anymore," Natalya responded, rolling her eyes. "Do whatever you want, Paige, but please, don't make a fool of yourself while you're here. We're all rooting for you to get your head screwed on straight. I don't see it happening for you while you're sitting here watching your ex-boyfriend get googly-eyed over the freshest piece of meat. If you want, I can set you up at a rehab facility-"

"Are you fucking serious?!" Paige exploded, and literally every head in the catering room turned towards her. Unabashedly, Paige slammed her chair against the table as she started towards the door. "I'm not like your dad, Nat. I'm not going to drink myself into stupidity," she said, watching evilly as Nattie's face fell at the rude comment.

She left, not caring as people began to chatter, as Charlotte shook her head in shame, as Del Rio couldn't even look in her direction out of sheer embarrassment having ever been associated with her to begin with.

Deciding to head back to the Diva's locker room, she hoped it was empty. She had a flask of vodka tucked away in her duffel bag, and she could use every last drop after witnessing all the bullshit she'd just been in the midst of.

* * *

 _"Man, Rollins and Punk could put on some seriously good matches together," Paige commented, watching the Royal Rumble alongside her good friend, AJ Lee. It was 2014, and while Paige hadn't been formally called up yet to the main roster, she'd made plenty of backstage appearances. It was a matter of time before she'd be given the push she so rightfully deserved, and she hoped that some day, she could hold the very same Divas championship belt that the bubbly, skipping queen of geeks currently had stretched across her ridiculously muscled thighs.  
_

 _"Yeah, I always did like watching Rollins," AJ commented, watching as the superstar flew from turnbuckle to turnbuckle, looking just as strong as the main-eventer that AJ was currently seeing. "As for Phil, though, I don't know that he's much interested in coming back."_

 _"Coming back?" Paige's eyes grew wide. "I thought he was supposed to main event Wrestlemania!"_

 _"Maybe," AJ replied, her eyes still watching as Punk eliminated another superstar. "But he's not too keen on the company right now. He's worked hard, and he keeps getting shoved aside for people who are part-timers. People who have already had their times. Rather than build up new talents, he really feels like WWE keeps stuffing people that already are over with the fans back into everyone's faces. Guys like Rollins, for example-" she pointed at the television-"really ought to be pushed. But guys like the Rock? What is he even doing here? Don't you think it's time to focus on new, fresh faces?"_

 _Paige considered this, understanding the point. "I know what you mean," she admitted. "But the Rock is an icon. And I think that's why they've brought him back. At any rate, he isn't even in the Rumble, is he?"_

 _"No," AJ replied, making a face. "But that's not really the problem. Phil's more upset that Stephanie and Hunter called in a favor to get a different big-name here."_

 _"A different big-name? But Punk is supposed to win the Rumble, isn't he?"_

 _"No," AJ replied dully. "And that's why he's upset. He wouldn't have been so annoyed if it were anyone except this other big-name. Sure, he wants to be the winner and get back into fighting for the title...but it looks like good 'ol Trips has his eye on his stupid stablemate."_

 _"S...stablemate?" Paige wondered, biting her lip. This didn't sound good._

 _"Yeah, you know," AJ didn't say much more, her eyes watching as Punk and Kane began to joust._

 _"Who is it?" Paige questioned meekly, praying to any God that existed that it wasn't who she thought it was._

 _"If I told you, that'd ruin the surprise," AJ turned to her, winking at her friend through the thick-rimmed glasses she wore._

 _And in just a few mere minutes, Paige's prayers were denied: He had returned._

* * *

Halfway through the show, Paige found herself hiding in a dark, empty locker room. She took a pull from the little silver flask she'd managed to sneak in, enjoying the buzz of liquor on her lips each time. She knew it was wrong, but she had no way of getting caught. By the time she left, most the alcohol was probably going to be worn off.

Her original plan was to hide out in the diva's locker room, paying no mind to any of the matches. Not like she was involved in any of them, anyways. As fate would have it, though, her plan was quickly re-directed when Becky Lynch had emerged in a total mess; her ring gear seriously showing off nipple. An emergency wardrobe fix would keep Paige's sanctuary occupied for quite awhile, and she didn't want to stand there awkwardly as the seamstress tried to piece together a whole new bodice for the fiery redhead's steampunk gear.

So, she had found what appeared to be a forgotten room, and so far, not a soul had emerged through the doors.

Taking another sip, she wondered why Berto was so caught up in Charlotte all of a sudden. Sure, Paige had led him on pretty strongly, making herself very clear that she was only interested in the sexual aspect of a relationship. And, she thought, he didn't seem to mind. They'd had plenty of fun together, but when he became possessive of her like they were, you know, _together_...well, that was when she stopped answering his phone calls. That's when she didn't want to keep herself tied to him any more.

She was free, god damn it!

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the squeak of the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She'd been figured out!

Curling up into a small ball, her back against the cool, concrete wall, she hid in the shadows as she watched the shadow of a large man glide in, taking a seat across from her. He didn't even see her, so her camouflage must have been stupendous. The man's long, dark hair hung in his face as he dug around in his boot, and Paige quirked her eyebrow as he pulled out a tiny little...glass pipe? Yes, that's exactly what it was.

There was a quick flick of light, and the end of the pipe was lit. And an overwhelming skunky smell filled the entire room.

"Hey!" Paige exclaimed suddenly, her buzzed self emerging from the shadow. The man jumped nearly a thousand feet, and she giggled. "You gonna share?"

He looked up at her, and her jaw dropped. It was the current WWE champion, Roman Reigns. And he was smoking pot, alone, in an empty locker room.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed, clearly annoyed that he wasn't alone as he thought he was. "What are you doing here, Paige?"

"I could ask you the same," she replied. "But I think it's pretty clear. I've got a few shots of vodka left, and you've got like, half a bowl to go...so..."

Roman took a hit, his eyes closing as he let the smoke roll in. He motioned for her to come near, and she did; the room still dark. She smashed her knee against the end of the bench, and it hurt like fucking hell, but Paige was kind of too drunk to care.

He blew smoke into her face, and she breathed it in, accepting the shotgun from the Samoan. Who knew Reigns wasn't such a goody-two-shoes after all?

"If I let you take a hit, promise you won't tell a soul you saw me here?"

"Scout's honor," she replied with a small hiccup, giggling as she gave an upside-down salute to the champion.

"Fine," he replied, passing her the little pipe. "Mind if I take a quick drink?"

She passed him the flask, and he took a swig. Meanwhile, she took a deep, hard hit, loving the burning sensation this shit gave her lungs. If she was breaking the rules already, she might as well go big or go home, right? So what if marijuana was hugely frowned upon? The chances of either of them getting caught were impossible.

"Roman Reigns, I'm appalled," she said once she felt the wave of complete calmness take over her body. "You have a big match against AJ Styles tonight, and you're going out there under the influence."

Roman smiled. "I know it looks bad, but since my hernia surgery last year...it's the only thing that takes the edge off. It's pathetic. I know I should just give it up, but I can't. And mind you, it's not illegal everywhere in the United States."

"Ahh, but it is in the WWE's eyes," she pointed out, taking a grab at the flask he still held. There was maybe a dribble left, and she made a face, though he couldn't see it. "We're held up to these ridiculous standards of perfection, and it fucking sucks. Sometimes, I think my life would be a whole lot better if I would've stayed in England and fought."

"I know you don't mean that," Roman replied, his own tone mellow to match hers. "If your goal isn't to be in the WWE, your dreams aren't big enough."

Paige scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Easy for you to say as you tote around gold, Reigns," she replied hotly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it hasn't exactly been easy to remain relevant in the divas division."

Roman visibly shrugged. "Hate to break it to ya, P, but you've been on the naughty list for awhile now and that may have some reason for why you haven't remained relevant in awhile."

"Fuck off," she replied curtly, knowing he was right and still being pissed that he was.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've worked fucking hard to get to the top. I've done every single thing the uppers have told me to do. Yet for some reason, the fans fucking hate me," he replied, taking another hit and coughing. "Gross, that was all shit..." he shook out the remnants of burned weed into his hand, tossing it in the nearest locker. Paige had never seen the champion in such a demeanor; normally, he was very high-strung and particular; it was truly nice to see him release a little bit.

"No, they don't hate you," Paige slurred, hugging him for no real apparent reason. "It seems like they do, but they're sheep. They think they know better. They always know better than Vince..." she wasn't making any sense, and she knew that. But she knew what she meant, and she watched as Roman nodded, indicating her understood her opinion.

"They think they hate John Cena, too," she said. "But how can you? How can anyone? He's done more for the WWE than in any organized sports team ever in history. So what if he's stale in the ring?"

Roman laughed. "Maybe I am, too. But to be honest, my size is my weakness. I would love to do the aerial style that Seth can do. I would love to have the personality that Dean does. But it's a lot harder for me to find my won niche outside of the Shield than I ever imagined."

"Why not just be Roman?" she asked. "Roman, the destroyer."

He laughed again, and even though he didn't intend to make her feel stupid, Paige sort of did.

"Roman isn't as likable as I thought he was," he replied.

"I think he's pretty likable," Paige batted her eyelashes at the Champion. She was being stupid and she knew it, and there was no way he'd ever give into her flirty ways. She slid closer to him anyways, trying to confirm to herself that she was still wanted by anyone. Yeah, maybe the alcohol was the prevalent factor here, but she just wanted the reaction out of the dark-haired man more than anything.

Roman turned to her, shaking his head as he slowly drew his face near to hers.

Suddenly, their noses were almost touching, and his wet hair was dripping down her cleavage. It was so wrong, but so _hot._

"Trust me," he whispered brusquely. "I'm not as likable as you want to believe." She could smell the mixture of the weed he'd just smoked, a lick of alcohol lingering, and minty gum. She got a sudden rush from the closeness, and her stupid girlishness wondered what it'd be like to be enveloped in those large, tattooed arms. "I'm not a good guy," he continued as he began to stand up.

"I'm not a very good girl," she replied, standing up as well, still facing him. He was much larger than she, but she didn't feel intimidated. She liked the rise she was starting to get from him as she took a step towards him, pulling her woman card out and waving it in his face. Fuck it all, she didn't care. She had nothing to lose.

And not like she was actually interested in this guy, anyways. But he was not only a step up from Berto, but a good distraction from him. Besides, it was pretty clear he'd be on top of Charlotte after the show, so the best thing Paige could do?

Get under Roman. Duh.

She stood on her tiptoes as she gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. "I had a nice, relaxing time. If you'd like, we can relax more together later," she whispered, feeling his muscles tense against her small body.

"You aren't a good girl, are you?" he replied, stepping away from her. "And you've got 'jailbait' written all over you. Not to mention 'trouble', 'hot mess', and a few other negative adjectives."

Paige's mouth dropped. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that you were so fucking _perfect,_ Champ!" she jabbed back, extending an arm to push him away from her. "Just know that I'll be laughing the whole time you're heading out to the ring tonight as the whole WWE universe boos you during your match!"

Roman laughed once more, tossing his black hair over his shoulder as his large hand grasped the handle of the door. "Hate to point it out, P, but at least I've _got_ _a match_."

"Oh my god, fuck off!" she exclaimed, ready to punch this dickhead in the face. "You're such an arrogant pile of shit!"

"Funny, you didn't think that while you were all over me," he said over his shoulder, exiting the room. "It was a good time. Maybe we'll bump into each other again."

"I fucking hope not!" she replied, standing alone in the dark.

Like usual.


	6. Chapter 5

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!  
**

 **For this chapter, I'm going to take into account some real-life news and making it my own. So...sorry not sorry. Technically, the reports are that this happened at the MiTB PPV, but...we'll just do a little editing, mmkay?  
**

* * *

"So you need to tell me what exactly is going on between you and Charlotte," Paige stated, standing in front of the arena they were exiting that same evening. "Because the last thing I like is when someone like _you_ makes me out to be a fool in front of the entire world!" she exclaimed, scuffing the concrete of the road she stood in, confronting Berto. Yeah, she was still buzzed and _super_ high from earlier, but enough was enough. Alberto Del Rio knew all of the struggles she was going through, yet still led her to believe he still had sexual interest in her. She was a total mindfuck, and did he care? No. Absolutely not.

"Paige, come on," he spoke with a heavy accent, his dark eyes flashing. He was both annoyed and angry, not interested in dealing with Paige's shit that evening. Del Rio was already frustrated as he began to slowly decline down the power rankings, something he certainly did not return for. No, he returned to the WWE for an excellent run as a heel; and if not to capture the WWE title, than to make a huge mid-card impact, shaking up the entire division. Instead, he was floundering, doing literally nothing.

And then he started hanging out with Charlotte before the show.

Now, Charlotte was fun, she was cool, and she was smart. Paige was all of those things, too; except the Flair heiress knew how to properly carry herself; she was happy to even have the opportunity to be on the main card, let alone be the Women's Champion. She worked hard to get better in the ring, worked alongside Renee Young to deliver exceptional interviews, and watched and re-watched some of the greatest promos in WWE history just to take note for herself. Paige, however, seemed to have lost her love for the company quickly, constantly carrying a chip on her shoulder and a dark cloud constantly raining over her head. It wasn't that Char was any better in the ring, more or less, her attitude set her aside from the younger woman. And that, Alberto thought, was sexy. He found that attractive.

Oh, sure, Paige was fun as hell. They'd gotten tattoos together after having too many shots of tequila, she made him feel a lot younger than he actually was... but she had issues, and he knew that going into it. When she made it very clear that she was only interested in a fuck and not so interested in the relationship aspect of things, Del Rio had no choice but to slowly fade into the background. It hurt like hell knowing that she was using him, trying to get over whatever it was that happened to her in the past. She'd mentioned previously that she'd been through a lot, but it wasn't until the Total Divas episode aired that she'd admitted to miscarrying. And after that episode aired, she was acting like a goddamn psycho. The crazy looks she was giving him in catering earlier? Not cool, and definitely not what he'd signed up for.

So, fuck that, and fuck her too. He'd thought he'd made himself pretty clear earlier when he'd traded cell phone numbers with the blonde, hoping to wind up in a more romantic setting soon. Yeah, Paige was looking; but she'd already told him an adult-like relationship was out of the question. So he wasn't exactly to blame for wanting to resume his life without her, as a bachelor.

Yet, here the woman stood in front of him, having a rough time standing on her own as she yelled at him for breaking her heart. He was surprised to hear she even had one to break.

"Little Mama, I'm tired, and I don't want to do this tonight," he complained, adjusting his dark blue jeans slightly before his boxer briefs became visible. "I like the girl, and you made it pretty clear what you wanted from me. We don't want the same thing at this point. Be young, do whatever you please, but it is not something that interests me," he spoke clearly, but his accent made his words sound broken, and he had a hard time getting his point across.

"My pussy is something that doesn't interest you?" she yelled, her own accent thick.

"Honestly? No," Del Rio stated, rolling her eyes. "Also, you smell like a vodka factory. You really ought to get a hobby."

"Go fuck yourself," she retorted, now standing within an arm's distance of her former bed buddy. "Or, if you'd like, I can fuck you," her mood changed quickly, her eyes lightening up a little as she ran her index finger along Berto's dark, tanned forearm. She knew she was acting crazy, but between the partying she'd done during the show and the way he was making her feel so small, she didn't care much. She was clinging on to any reason at all to keep him around, if only because she didn't have many people left in her personal corner.

"Not interested," he stated bluntly, turning away from her. She got angry quickly, hanging on to his white t-shirt as he began to walk back towards the arena.

"How dare you tell me that Charlotte is more intriguing!" she spat, her eyes angry as she stood toe-to-toe with the Latino man.

"She is, Paige. She is. You need to get to your hotel...because this is ridiculous. I had a rough night, and I could use a night without your bullshit."

"She's more intriguing? Seriously? What, does she suck your dick better? Does she spread her legs at command? Tell me, because I don't think I'm understanding properly!"

"Paige! Knock your bullshit off!" Del Rio was now bright red, his anger registering to the raven-haired woman for the first time during the encounter. "We're not sleeping together. We've hardly talked! You're fucking nuts, and I don't really want to deal with you!"

Paige was quiet for a moment as she crept closer to the Latino.

"I fucking hate you," she replied curtly, her hands clenched at her sides. "I really hope Princess Flair can give you what you need in life. God knows that little 'ol me won't be able to, you selfish piece of shit!" she was yelling now, allowing her emotions to completely take over her brain. She pushed the man, ready to punch him square in the nose. If she were back home in England, that would be normal behavior; you fuck with Paige, your face gets fucked up. Here, in the WWE, it wasn't exactly something that the upper management encouraged.

"You could have, Paige, but this is exactly why I'm done with your crazy ass!" he replied, now in the middle of the street, too. She looked like she could kill him, as finally, she took a step near the man, raising both fists.

"You don't want to do this," he said as she got into a boxing-like format; and she laughed like the crazy bitch she was.

"Actually, fucker, I do," she replied, taking a loose jab at him. He easily swayed, not even close.

"Paige, if you want to lose your job, this is the right way to go about that," he warned, stepping back. "I don't want to hurt you, but you know that I can."

"You're a joke, Berto. Shit, even Roman Reigns is better in-ring than you are," she giggled, her hands dropping slightly.

"Shows how much you know," he spat, rolling his eyes. "I'm leaving. Do you want me to call a cab for you, or do you think you can manage by yourself?"

"You can take me home," she replied, giggling like a child. Yeah, she was super messed up. Del Rio seemed to have made note of her behavior quickly, likely wondering why she was acting even more crazy than usual.

 _Damn, Reigns was packing the good stuff!_

"Knock it off!" he yelled, his patience on brink. "I'm calling you a cab, and you're going to get the hell out of here. You're not going to speak another word to me, and you're definitely going to leave Charlotte alone. Just disappear for awhile, Paige. Everyone wants you to! You're more of a hindrance than you are a help right now! You're debilitating the company you claim that you love. Give everyone a break, and get away from here!" Del Rio exploded to his former friend, his anger now to a point where he couldn't simply contain it. No longer would he be able to put a cap on it, no longer would he ignore the gut feeling that this woman was out to destroy him.

Paige took a swing, totally blindsiding the former champion. Del Rio tried to duck, but she connected well; her fist landing directly on the apple of his high cheekbones. She laughed as he crumbled, his ass hitting the pavement as he held the spot that was certain to be swollen in the next few hours.

"Fuck you, Berto," she spat, stepping away from him as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "Like I said, I hope she was fucking worth it."

"Anything is better than you," Del Rio replied, struggling to get to his feet. He was disoriented, all right; but the last thing he wanted was to give Paige an inkling of power that she didn't necessarily deserve.

"Ay, you two! You ought to knock it off!" came a voice, and Del Rio recognized it to be of Sheamus, his former stablemate and former WWE champion. While the Irishman was less than intriguing to the fans, Berto got along with him fairly well. He was an unfortunate heel character right now, someone who had potential if the fans would just get behind him. Unfortunately, things didn't work out in the redhead's favor; as the WWE upper management was currently trying their hardest to push Roman Reigns.

"Maybe you ought to mind your own business, Whitey!" Paige responded, her mood changing quickly now knowing that the former lovebirds were not alone.

"You should talk!" Sheamus replied, rolling his eyes as he came to view. "Look, you guys. Everyone can hear your lover's quarrel, and the best thing for each of you is to pretend nothing happened. The last thing either of you assholes want is for Steph or Hunter to catch wind of this!"

"Go find something to do," Paige replied. "Can't you see that he's a cheating sack of shit?"

Del Rio laughed loudly. "Sheamus, call the police on this nutjob. She's a sack, not me."

Sheamus grabbed at his phone, but no sooner did he have his device in his hands than a squad car rolled up next to the three of them, his window open as the officer leaned out to speak to the three of them.

"Hey, folks. One of the renters at the hotel across the way gave a noise complaint just outside their window. I could hear you yelling at each other from down the block," the officer stated, his eyes tired.

"Things are _peachy,_ officer," Paige replied, and Del Rio now stood up, his eyes shining straight at the officer. He bit the inside of his cheek, and Paige knew that it was likely now that he'd admit that she had come at him. And real-life fighting, especially over a relationship, was hardly something that WWE took lightly. She'd be looking at a suspension, all over again.

But wasn't that always the case with her?

"Yeah, peachy," Berto shocked the other two, Sheamus turning towards his friend with an eyebrow raised.

"You sure?" the officer's cherub-like cheeks bouncing as he spoke. Paige wondered how far this guy could actually run if she chose to sprint out of here to save her ass. He'd probably make it to the end of the block before calling it quits. Unless he rolled after her, of course...

"Yeah, I'm sure," Berto said, his accent heavy. "Just heading back to our separate rooms, actually."

The officer shined a ridiculously bright flashlight at his dark skin, highlighting the enormous red spot that was beginning to form on his face.

"It comes with the territory," he explained lightly. "I've just got to be for mindful during my matches," he muttered to Sheamus, who shook his head disapprovingly as he realized that Del Rio wasn't going to rat on Paige. He had every reason to take her down, but as she stood there in front of an authority figure, she looked like a delinquent caught tagging an old building. So childish, fragile, and scared. Something that nobody saw often from her; in fact, it was impressive that she even could keep her mouth shut for this long.

"I see. At the very least, you ought to get that checked out. For a broken bone, I mean," the officer still shined his flashlight at the three, and Paige looked at her feet nervously.

"I'm fine. Doing well-"

"I insist," he cut off the former champion. "Let's get you down to the nearest hospital, now."

Defeated, Del Rio took a step towards the squad car. Paige caught his elbow, causing him to turn towards her. Fear was distilled into her pupils, and she feared the worst: she would be going to jail. Her eyes pleading for him not to get closer, he stepped towards her, his lips close to her ear.

"I won't say anything. This time."

Paige's shoulders relaxed as she, too, stepped forward. "I'd like to come along, to make sure he's alright," she spoke for the first time, almost forcing her presence on the two men. Sheamus scoffed in the background, muttering to himself about leaving the circus.

"Is that alright, son?" the cop asked Berto, who didn't respond immediately. He really, clearly didn't want to have Paige ride along, especially being in the state she was right now. She was blasted out of her mind, but he supposed if she could keep her damn mouth shut for long enough, it was better that she stayed out of sight of one of the narcs at the hotel. Should someone who needed a push badly come into contact with her, he or she would take their findings straight to talent relations and have Paige sent packing for sixty days, not thirty.

"Of course it is," Del Rio choked out, extending his hand so that Paige knew to walk alongside him. She understood the motion, following him as the officer popped open the door to his squad car for them.

Nervously, the ex-lovers slipped into the back. Sure, they weren't in any sort of trouble-at least, they didn't think they were-but it was still nerve-wrecking to be sliding into the backseat of an officer's car. Paige wondered how many criminals had been back there, and wondered what they'd done to be in the predicament. To keep herself out of trouble, though, she wisely chose not to speak. She knew her words were probably slurred yet, and once the officer took them to the hospital, she vowed to find a vending machine to get some food into her stomach immediately.

She reached over to Berto's hand and give it a quick squeeze. Repulsed, he whipped it away quickly, his nose wrinkled at her as though she were a piece of literal shit.

"Thank you," she mouthed, though slightly embarrassed at the way he'd just treated her. He'd had his penis inside of her, yet he looked disgusted when she'd snatched at his hand? The fuck was wrong with this guy?

* * *

"My, my. Someone got in rather late," a voice came in from the darkness, and Paige jumped at least ten feet in the air as she tried to squint, hoping to see who the voice belonged to.

It was pitch black in the hotel's game room, though, and she couldn't sleep. The bed was uncomfortable, her television got maybe three channels, it was hot as ballsacks, and her mind was on fire. So, she'd brought her tablet down to the lobby, where it was much cooler...except she didn't like that the woman on duty at the front desk was watching her like a hawk, her beady little eyes judging her as she swiped through her Instagram.

She opted to sit in the dark, hoping to be alone.

"Heard you had quite the altercation with Del Rio," the voice was closer to her, but she still couldn't see where it was coming from. "Head's up, it's all over the news. TMZ is even reporting that you got arrested."

Paige's ears prickled as the voice was now directly behind her. She whipped around, a fuzzy image of a face behind her. She recognized the goatee, the gray eyes, and the long hair. She felt better now: it was only Roman.

"I didn't get _arrested_ ," she huffed, and Roman chuckled. "Though I probably should have," she added quietly, hoping that the former Shield member hadn't heard her.

"You were that fucked up, huh?" he took a seat next to her, and she slid further away, annoyed that he'd invited himself to her table in this dark room. She had intended to be alone, after all; and the last thing she needed tonight was to get fucked up with Roman once more.

"Might as well have been Jeff Hardy," she replied. "I popped him in the cheek pretty good. Luckily, the hospital we were at this evening didn't find any structural damage in his cheekbone...but he'll have a real shiner for the next few days."

Roman gave a hearty laugh now. "It's about time someone popped that jackass in the mouth. And it makes me even more happy that it was you to do it. Did you find out what he'd been saying about you backstage, or what?"

Now, Paige's ears perked up. "He'd been talking about me backstage? Like, to my friends?"

Roman cleared his throat, his hands folding and unfolding on the table. "Sorry, I thought...I figured that was what you two were arguing about."

"What's he been saying?"

"It's really not anything to worry ab-"

"Roman, so help me God, tell me what he said about me, or you'll end up looking just like Berto."

Roman sighed. "He basically called you a cheap whore. Your gimmick, your look, and everything else was 'cheap.' He's also said that you're a brat, that you're insane, and he's trying his hardest to blacklist you. And sadly, since he's a fairly respected veteran, a lot of people are beginning to listen."

Paige shook her head as she willed herself not to cry.

"I knew I shouldn't have jumped into his bed," she said quietly, her lip quivering already. She was not going to cry over this douchebag. No, she couldn't...

"Well, that's a fact. That guy is a real piece. Not to mention, you're much younger than he is. If he didn't want someone who still had life to live, who still had dreams to accomplish, and who wanted to keep things fun and enjoyable, I'm not sure why he'd align himself with you."

Paige gave a small smile, even though she knew the Samoan superhero probably couldn't see her.

"Thanks, Roman," she said back.

"Anytime, baby girl. Listen, you really ought to go lay down. It's been a long day, and an even longer night for you. Tomorrow won't be so great, with talent calling your phone as soon as they catch wind of your adventure. Hopefully, Del Rio keeps his story in check. The last thing I hope for you is for you to fall further down the company ladder because you got tied up with someone who didn't appreciate you."

"Nobody does," she remarked. "Lately, all I've been is a stepping stone."

"You and me both," Roman replied. He got up, giving a large stretch, before walking towards the double-doors, the moonlight beginning to peer in. Paige saw that he had only been wearing a pair of black Nike basketball shorts and slide-on sandals, his large muscles uncovered and exposed.

She probably looked like a complete rat, and was thankful that she had been hiding in the dark.

"Have a good night, champ," she said with an edge, almost in spite. She watched him turn towards her, looking like he wanted to say something. He said nothing as he turned on his heel, walking away from the table she still sat at.

* * *

Roman Reigns pounded at the door. Yeah, it was six a.m. Yeah, he didn't care much. This was something he felt he had to do before it was too late.

Finally, the hotel room flung open, and the tanned man stood before him, still sleepy and looking fucking ridiculous in the white plush bathrobe that he wore. His eyes followed up to those of the taller man, and recognition and question appeared quickly. Roman crossed his arms as he tried to intimidate Del Rio, but had a hard time doing so as his eyes landed on the deep, dark bruise that tiny little Paige had left right under his eye. He felt proud of her; it was something that even he felt she had a right to do. Especially since he knew what the veteran had been saying about her lately.

"Roman? What do you want at such early hours?" Del Rio asked, his eyes questioning.

"Baby? Come who is it? Come back to bed..." he heard a woman call, and he looked up to see a blonde still laying in the hispanic's bed, who he assumed to be Charlotte.

 _What a fucking tool!_

Del Rio quickly stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him slightly so that Roman couldn't get any better of a view of the bed. He knew that the blonde was probably naked, and could venture a guess that Del Rio had played a sympathy card on her, landing her straight into his bed. He had to give the guy credit where it was due: Berto sure knew how to capture the attention of female co-workers.

"I don't mean to ruin your morning brunch," Roman laughed at his own lame joke. "Sorry. But I ran into Paige last night."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Berto replied. "If this is about that wretched woman, I really don't want to hear it. She and I are nothing, and I don't want to be connected to he anymore. She's psychotic."

"But it _is_ about her. Listen, for a second. Only a second."

Del Rio crossed his arms against his chest, still looking like a fruit in his fluffy robe. "What? What did she do now? Did she try to jump into the sack with you? Do you need help getting rid of that annoying, pesky little fly? I don't know how to help."

"No, nothing like that. I spoke to her very briefly, but you ought to know that Paige and I spent a lot of time in NXT together, before we made the jump to Monday Night Raw. I trained with her only a few times, as my brothers and myself were called up quickly."

"I'm not sure where this is going, Roman, and frankly I'm not sure that I care."

"There are reports all over the internet that she was arrested. The last thing that girl needs right now is to lose her career over your sorry ass," Roman flicked the collar of the bathrobe, stepping closer to Berto so that he could see the rage that was in his eyes. "You knew what a mess she was, and you chose to get involved despite that. You knew that if you got close to her, she'd latch on for dear life. But you didn't care, and you still don't. You need to realize that she's had people in the company who know the situations she's been in better than you do. I think it'd be wise of you to keep your goddamn mouth shut if Hunter or, God forbid, Vince, come to you asking questions about what happened last night."

Now, the Samoan stood nose to nose with Paige's former interest, his words threatening. "If you so much as utter a word about the state she was in last night, or what actually happened...your face is going to look much, much worse than it does right now. Paige still has a whole career ahead of her. But as you know, you can't take something from a man who has nothing left to lose."

With that, Roman gave a rough shove to Del Rio, knocking him back towards his hotel room door. Del Rio said nothing, but gave a quick nod of agreement before scuttling his sorry ass inside, back to Charlotte or whoever had fallen victim to him this time.


	7. Chapter 6

**So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!  
**

 **Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!  
**

 **I write a lot in kayfabe for this story. I take real ideas and make them better. On a side note, this involves the idea of "Wrestler's Court." This is a REAL thing that has plenty of accounts. I suggest Whatculture's tales on YouTube if you have any questions. Very intriguing idea, but not surprising it's actually implemented. I chose to use this idea as a tool in my story since I've been watching a ton of documentaries on the WWE.  
**

 **Also, if you've not read Daniel Bryan's book, YES! I suggest you do so. I teared up many times, and the guy is just damn remarkable. He doesn't really seem to see it in himself, but he's the kind of person that inspires others to be a better version of themselves. Just, wow.**

* * *

There were photos everywhere on the internet the next day.

 _Everywhere._

From the previous night, somehow every social media outlet and journalist alike had managed to snap a photo of Paige and Del Rio, a concerned look on Paige's super-high face as her "man" was being taken to the hospital.

While she knew what had actually happened, she had so far remained lucky that the WWE didn't. There was plenty of speculation, though, and the WWE had already issued a statement proclaiming that they would "get to the bottom of things."

Paige knew, with a heavy heart, that once Berto was approached by management, he would sadly give in; after all, he was normally promised all kinds of things by them. One heavy push, and he'd reveal that Paige had been so fucked up that night that, in fact, she was the one to knock him.

This meant that WWE would find themselves in a very sticky situation. In the PG era, any men and women violence was kept quite separate, despite the fact that they'd been meshing the two genders for years. In fact, Chyna (Joanie Laurer) had been one of the most bad-ass women in the company whilst she watched as a young girl, running alongside D-Generation X and Chris Jericho alike, not showing any weakness because she had tits.

But nowadays, things wouldn't be so; and either Paige would get in wild trouble for not being able to keep her hands to herself, or Berto would get in serious trouble simply because he was male. It was almost incomprehensible that he'd allow for a small woman to leave a mark on him, and the management would wonder what _he'd_ done to _Paige_ to make her lash out in such a way.

Now, Paige was a total mess as it was. her relationship was in a bad situation with Berto, and her position in the company she'd strived her entire life to be in was slipping quickly. It was a matter of time before her bad behavior would make it impossible to regain any form of women's championship belt. And, the more trouble she'd found herself in as of late, the more probable it seemed.

It was mere moments later that Paige had been suddenly rattled from her deep funk she'd been in since waking that morning by some thumping and yelling in the hallway, something that wasn't uncommon during traveling but still annoying. Giving a good, solid stretch, she peeked at herself in the small mirror provided by the rooms even smaller dresser, deciding that the slept-in makeup gave a decent raccoon-like look around her eyes. She was presentable enough.

She opened her hotel room door, seeing some of her male colleagues stamping down the halls. A few other divas had also peeked their heads out the doors, intrigued by the commotion. She gave a questioning look towards Becky Lynch just a few doors down, and she only shrugged, concern peaking her brows.

Kane made his way down the hallway, his scarily large stature moving slowly. Even though he was one of the nicest guys on the roster, he was still very intimidating. He really was a large guy, and he'd done so much in his career that if anyone were to talk to him, unless it'd be of a Cena-like status, would feel very much inferior to the Demon.

Paige, however, was never scared of anyone, even though she ought to be.

"Yo, Kane, what's with the stampede? It interrupted my beauty sleep."

Kane turned, a mean look on his face. Once he saw that it was she who had spoken up, his face softened up a bit.

"Don't worry, Paige. It's nothing to do with you."

"You sure? I just read all kinds of misdeeds on TMZ about myself," she admitted sheepishly. "Not too proud to be winding up on their website again."

Kane gave a quick laugh. "TMZ is lame shit. There's a much bigger thing going on. Wrestler's court."

Paige gave a look of awe. She'd heard of this before, actually. It was a very, very old tradition; in fact, she wasn't sure the mystery was a solid truth anymore. Back in the day, Vince McMahon had given certain veteran wrestlers (i.e., Hunter and Taker) the right to punish other performers if they behaved in embarrassing ways. Sometimes, the person on trial would be able to "buy" the judge, and the case would be dismissed. Once, it was rumored, Edge and Christian had bought the judge, Taker, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a book about motorcycles, just so they could continue to use the shared locker room. Others, like the Miz, weren't so fortunate; he'd gotten cookie crumbs on a veteran wrestler's bags, and was forced to change in a bathroom stall.

Things had changed widely since then. The idea of "court" was constructed mostly so Vince didn't have to involve himself in silly backstage drama, as he was a busy guy with more things to worry about that cookie crumbs. But these days, it was unheard of. Talents of the past had told horror stories, and as a result, things were handled much more carefully so as not to put Vince McMahon in the hotseat.

"Seriously? I've never been involved. Only heard of it. Need a jury member?" she asked, hopeful. Kane just laughed. "No can do. This one's a pretty cut and dry case. Not too much to decide on; just a punishment."

"Who's in trouble, if it's not me?"

Kane looked uneasy.

"It's not Berto, is it?" her heart sank. She had a bad feeling that he'd get blamed for some domestic abuse bullshit; the WWE had a zero-tolerance policy, after all; and again, it wasn't exactly believable that Paige had smashed him with her fist even though he'd done nothing to deserve it.

"No, no. One of our top-stars failed a drug test."

Paige could've sworn the air she was breathing went stale, a sharp inhale caught in her throat. If drug tests were being administered randomly, she was possibly and probably fucked.

"Dare I ask?" she managed to remain cool, forcing herself not to break into the sweat that was already beginning to form on her brow...

"Roman," Kane said quickly, as if he hadn't said the name at all. "It's unfortunate, really; the spiral he's been getting into. Don't know what's gotten into the guy."

"That's the last person I'd have thought," Paige responded, her vision beginning to whirl. Roman was going to talk, and she knew it; in a matter of time, they would both be completely thrown into the trash bin.

"You and me both," Kane responded, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a tough business. Reigns should just thank his lucky stars that 'Taker's not here to run the show anymore. The sentence would be a lot more harsh if he still controlled the locker room. Luckily, he's got to face his former brothers. I'm just there to keep order..." he shook his head, realizing he'd said too much. "You have a good rest of your day, Paige."

* * *

Roman Reigns sat in the makeshift "courtroom" while Seth Rollins, the worm that he was, and Dean Ambrose spoke nonchalantly about the punishment their former partner should endure. Though he couldn't hear much, he was humiliated; as if things weren't shitty enough for him already. But this took the fucking cake. He'd heard rumors of backstage politics like this, but wasn't wrestler's court well past its prime? Hadn't it burned in hell with Undertaker, the hundred times he'd been sent there? This was lame as hell.

"I think we ought to make him publicly apologize," Ambrose murmured. "I know he's going through a lot with the separation, and I don't necessarily think he should get too much past the suspension."

"I don't know, man," Seth muttered under his breath. "I don't think we ought to go light on him at all. Roman is supposed to be a model for _kids._ As a lunatic, I know you don't know much about the values and morale it takes to be in his position-"

"And you do?" Dean cut his old friend off quickly. "Need I remind you that the whole world saw what you were packing in your tights?" Ambrose referred to the leaked photos from Seth's ex-fiancee, an unfortunate event a few years ago that had cost him dearly; both in fines and humiliation. "At least we didn't all see Roman's huge, Samoan-"

"Knock it off," Seth hissed. "This is serious. I don't care about whatever's going on in his personal life. Roman's supposed to be a top guy, and if I'd learned anything from my own misadventures, it's that you can't be taken seriously when you're busy doing juvenile shit. Nude pictures? immature and lame as fuck. Smoking some weed? Super lame. I say we give him a chance to reveal who he was with the night that the rookie narc saw him taking hits. If he does, I bet I can get his sentence knocked down to a two-week suspension, courtesy of my own ties."

Dean scoffed. "Ro's not gonna reveal who he was with," he replied, his eyes rolling heavily. It was a gesture he'd picked up from his girlfriend, Renee, and while he knew it was highly annoying, it was something he just couldn't stop doing.

"He might if he knows he's in jeopardy of losing a top position," Seth pointed out. "If it were me in the same position, I'd rack my brain really hard for some answers...and accusations, just to save my own ass."

"You would," Dean said, not hiding the saltiness bite to his words. It was clear that, even to this day, there was still some evident bad blood between the two men. Seth had thought he'd persevere much more without his Shield brethren, but it was Dean who had it all going for him. Dean had the fanbase. Dean had the girl. Dean had it all. And Seth? Seth hated it.

"What exactly do you suggest, then?"

"Well, if he doesn't spill, I've got a different gimmick for him to take on. He'll have plenty of time to do it during his suspension, anyways."

"Yeah? What's that? Make Dean Ambrose look like a real champ?"

Dean chuckled. "Not quite. I think Roman ought to start babysitting."

* * *

"I wasn't with anyone," Roman muttered, looking away from the prosecutor. Unfortunately, it was his former faction member, Seth Rollins, and he was finding it really hard to lie to the man he used to call a friend. Before things changed. Before the company changed.

"You know, if you can just give me a hint, we can get this whole thing taken care of," Rollins said, his snake-like eyes watching the larger man. "I know you're lying, Reigns. I really think you ought to just come clean."

"Nothing to say," he replied simply. "Sometimes I have a hard time sleeping. I've got a lot going on, and I talk to myself. How would anyone know whether or not I was alone? It was dark, and I like it that way."

Dean snorted in response, not buying this facade for a second.

"Have it your way, then," Seth Rollins interjected. He looked at his ally, Kane, who was presiding over this entire debacle.

"You will go forth with your mandatory 30-day suspension for violating the wellness policy. This information will be publicized, so don't try to deny any reports of the allegations. You will also be required to prepare a speech for the entire locker room, apologizing for your misconduct," Kane said simply, ready to get on with his day.

"And?" Dean Ambrose prodded the demon, a smirk on his face. "The best part?"

Kane sighed. "As you know, there's been a lot of speculation regarding former WWE divas champion, Paige. Given her own family ties, the company doesn't want to send her down to NXT or anything...but she has been granted time off. She just doesn't know this yet. She needs to get her mind sorted-"

"Great," Roman interjected, annoyed. Had they found out that Paige was guilty of violating the wellness policy, too? He thought to Del Rio, an angry flash rising from his stomach. Had the little twerp really mentioned that Roman had shown up at his hotel room, ready to fight?

"Remind me why I should care?" Roman was now totally pissed, and now even considered that Paige was the one who had ratted on his smoking habit just to save herself from the same fate.

Dean gave his friend a cold stare. "Listen, Roman. Paige is in serious trouble right now, too. If she doesn't get her head sorted out, she's going to lose her job. And as her friend, I want to keep her out of trouble. I know you're going to keep your head on straight from here on out, and I'd like for her to do the same."

"Why do you care?" Roman asked, but he knew the answer. Seth shook his head in annoyance. _Everyone_ cared. Sadly, Paige had been a completely different person as of late; her own demons finally catching up with her. In a way, her colleagues from NXT were forever protecting of her; Ambrose being a big brother away from her own back in England. They'd all seen her rise, and they'd all seen her fall. While Seth hadn't been nearly as close to Paige as Ambrose had been, he still felt for her, knowing full-well of her past situation...

Kane bristled at Roman-even he had a soft spot for the raven-haired beauty.

"Maybe you two could learn a few things about each other," Rollins joked. He'd made it clear that Dean's idea was asinine; but little did he know that after the past few nights, Ambrose had witnessed some serious issues within Paige's decision-making skills.

"The last thing I need is to be watching a grown-ass woman," Roman muttered.

"If you don't, the last thing you'll be doing is sitting here," Kane remarked, his eyes angry. "It is our understanding that Paige is unable to return home to her family, and continues to travel with us. She needs a break...and we all know that you've got a swanky bachelor pad while the details between you and Galina get hammered out," he said, a little more snarky than Roman would've liked.

"Who told you that?" Roman demanded. He hadn't spoken a world to anyone about Galina's interest in divorce.

"Renee," Dean responded matter-of-factly. It took him a second, but Roman realized he was talking about Paige's inability to travel to her parent's home across the ocean. His eyes held Dean's for a second, wondering if his friend had taken a few too many bumps to his head. He didn't say another word, though; and he'd hoped that for now his eventual divorce would remain tight-lipped.

"If you agree to do this," Dean continued, "You won't lose your position, Ro. We all know you've scratched and clawed to get to the top. You're up at the top of the mountain where you deserve to be. Don't turn this offer down."

Roman didn't say anything.

"You still have a title shot," Seth said quietly. "As long as you compete thirty days sober, and thirty days of babysitting."

"And if Galina catches wind of me sharing my home with another female, I can surely kiss my relationship with her goodbye," Roman replied. "Is that worth a title opportunity?"

"Oh, Roman," Kane gave a large, freakish smile, a knowing look on his face. "Galina is the least of your worries, and I think you know that."

Roman's heart raced. Some way, somehow, the director or operations _knew._

"Fine," Roman agreed half-heartedly. It wasn't even that he disliked Paige; clearly. But she had bad news written all over her, and Roman could see the danger within her the last time he spoke to her, back at the hotel. He regretted ever speaking to her at all. He regretted not telling the guys that she had been the person he'd been smoking weed with. He regretted having ever speaking to her at all, ever.

And now, he was going to have to put up with her for a goddamn month.

* * *

Paige was certain she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming.

"So that's the plan," Stephanie McMahon sat across from her, her hands folding on the solid, dark wood of her desk. She tried to give a genuine smile, but Paige thought she could see right through the boss. Paige knew better than to trust a McMahon, so she raised an eyebrow at her superior, hoping she'd expand a little bit on the details.

"Roman agreed to lend me his home to take time off?" she asked coolly, trying to keep her tone even.

"Um...well..yes," Stephanie replied, her icy eyes watching, calculating. "Look, Paige..."

"I don't need to hear it," Paige retorted quickly, knowing that Steph was just about to offer her some motherly advice and possibly even mesh in her on sorry-ass sob story.

Stephanie's lips formed a thin line, as though she was unsure how to handle the situation at hand. "I know things are hard for you. I get it. But we can't have the bad press right now...it's only hurting us more than we can handle."

"Is that so?" Paige replied angrily, trying hard as hell to control her temper. "You didn't care about bad press when CM Punk left!"

"Phil Brooks is a non-issue, Paige. He doesn't work here anymore, and frankly, I don't mind it. You, however, do. And so does Roman. It was a fantastic idea formed by an unlikely contributor, this buddy-program thing. I can't say I wasn't initially unsure, but I think you both with do well. Roman needs to keep himself busy with understanding how important it is to maintain a good influence, and you need a good influence _badly_." Stephanie remained calm, and Paige was currently fantasizing how great it'd feel to throw her into a DDT right on this expensive fucking desk. "It's perfect, really," Stephanie continued, as if trying to convince herself. "Besides, this gives us time to do more digging on the entire report regarding your ex-boyfriend and yourself. If you go through with this without any more complaint, Paige, this whole thing can be dismissed. Whatever happened between you and Del Rio will be scrubbed clean. Whatever happened, surely, he deserved it," she stated, knowing full-well what probably everyone else was too scared to say: Paige was to blame for the ugly mark on his face.

Paige winced unwillingly, and Stephanie hadn't been blind to it. "That's what I thought. This little investigation will be wrapped up. Just please, Paige, agree to take some time off. Roman is suspended for thirty days, and my team will write you into an injury angle. Keep each other out of trouble."

"I fucking hate it," Paige replied. "But I can't embarrass my family by losing the one thing I love," she sighed. "Fine, sign me up. But if that neanderthal clubs me and takes me back to his cave, I'm coming for you," Paige threatened, though she immediately wished she hadn't as Steph's eyes shot open, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I was...kidding," Paige lied.

"I thought so. Now, tomorrow you have a match against Becky Lynch, and I think it's about time that Charlotte and Dana Brooke attack and..." the rest was all background noise.

Come Wednesday, Paige was going to be off TV, and Roman was going to be watching her every move. While the last few encounters with the guy had been fun and full of paraphernalia, she already knew that Reigns would be taking this sentence seriously. That meant she was going to be kept prisoner in his home.

This was gonna suck.


	8. Chapter 7

**Forever having a hard time with this. God, I dislike whatever is or isn't going on with Del Rio and Paige IRL, I just don't see anything likeable about him. Ah, well. Who knows.  
**

 **Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!  
**

 **In other news, I'm forever taking things in a new direction here. That means it's my own alteration of what may have actually happened, for story purposes. Keep an open mind, friends! :)**

* * *

The car ride was a long one, and the air was humid and stagnant between Dean and Paige. He had offered her the ride, though Paige suspected it was because Stephanie McMahon had asked him to do so. She also suspected that Renee was mysteriously filming at a vineyard for Total Divas today, making herself unavailable for this long, boring car ride from Georgia to Roman's home in Florida.

 _Have no fear, though, Dean was ever the knight in shining armor!_ Paige thought angrily, biting her own lip to keep her from saying something rude or laughing out loud as the floppy-haired lunatic drove precisely the speed limit down a busy main road.

While Paige was still pretty freakin' pissed about this whole situation at hand, she assumed that her new nanny probably felt the same way about keeping a watchful eye on her as well. After all, Paige was a well-known "wild one," and Roman...well, she'd put her whole year's salary on the idea that he'd be a stickler during this month-long stay. His clock was ticking, and people were equally upset with him as they were her, just for different...ish reasons.

It was likely that Roman wanted to steer clear of any fun things, since his job was in serious jeopardy. If Roman couldn't grasp on to his main-event position without keeping his piss clean, Paige knew that he'd pick his career first. That fucking sucked. And, if Paige had half a proper mind, she'd be forcing herself to keep getting better and stronger each day.

But things...weren't really that easy. She was at the point in her life and career that she wondered that, even if she _did_ try to make serious changes within herself, would it even matter anymore? She was so far from the Women's title now that she couldn't even sniff it if she wanted to; her rockin' abs were becoming more soft with each passing week, and she had snuck menthol cigarettes into her evenings here and there lately.

Combine that with the trainwreck that was her life, and things were just gravy.

Paige still kept silent as Dean nervously drummed his fingers against the rental car's steering wheel, totally out of beat with the Nirvana song that was playing on the radio. She was about to tell him to knock that shit off, but she began over-thinking again. Why had Dean been so persistent on having his friend babysit her? Yeah, there was an age difference, but not so much that Reign's could be her pops. Did Ambrose seriously think that maybe the Samoan could make her change her ways? If so, that was a joke; and she'd be missing the punchline.

"Roman's house is great," Dean finally spoke for the first time in probably a hundred or so miles. Paige drew her eyebrow up at him, quirking it in similar fashion to the Rock. She knew he was only trying to be nice and break the obvious tension that hung between them. The last time they'd really spoken was during her intervention, and Dean had avoided her since then. Still, Paige wasn't feeling like talking to the lunatic fringe, rolling her heavily darkened eyes at the the lunatic and silently wishing that Renee had put on her big-girl panties and been the one to drive her. At least they could've talked about sex, or something equally exciting. Dean's version of small talk was even worse than she'd imagined.

Ignoring him still, she couldn't help but internally chuckle as Ambrose carefully checked his blindspot as he pulled on to the super-busy interstate, driving the exact speed limit still. He used his blinker, slowed for an old woman to pass him, then finally merged to the 70 MPH along with the other drivers. If the WWE Universe could see him now, they wouldn't thing him to be a crazed lunatic at all; he drove like a grandpa.

 _Not so crazy after all, huh Dean?_ Paige thought to herself. _What has Renee done to the pink-haired psycho that the world had originally fell in love with?_

Immediately, the raven-haired diva felt badly about that thought. Renee was a great friend, and Ambrose had so needed the gorgeous interviewer to calm his erratic behavior; behavior that easily once rivaled her own. Still, she should feel the same about herself. Paige was hardly a serious player in the title game, and her gimmick had fallen flat. While Dean had admitted that he felt he was being watered down, he _was_ relevant.

"You'll have a good time with him, kid," Dean said quietly, knowing that she had chosen to ignore his last statement outright. "I think that having someone to mentor might help get Ro out of that slump. Not to mention I think, after the shit I've witnessed lately, you could use some sort of guidance."

"Oh, save me, Ambrose," Paige spat sarcastically, fanning herself with her own hand in a dramatic way. "I'm a damsel in distress, and I need a man to provide me with direction!"

Dean laughed awkwardly, unsure if Paige was joking with him or being a bitch. She was intending for both; in this case, it seemed to work.

"I don't mean to make you feel like you need male support, P," Dean said after a long, drawn out silence. "I just think that you're not looking at the bigger picture. If you end up getting thrown back to NXT, or worse, you lose a lot more than you think you will."

"TNA is always hiring," she pointed out.

"Yeah, and the women's wrestling on there is more of a joke than when Kelly Kelly held the Divas belt. Not to mention, how long will they realistically exist for? And I don't want to hear you utter a word about ROH, because we both know that that's not much better as far as creative direction is concerned."

Paige sighed. "I guess you're right," she finally waved her white flag, defeated. She was exhausted from bickering with her friend, and even though she didn't completely agree with him, she knew Dean was only doing this in her best interest.

"Did you actually make this a condition fro Reigns' return?" she asked. "Babysitting?"

"Quit saying it like that. Yes, it was a condition. He could remain in the triple threat if he kept an eye on you during your own leave, since you'd mentioned that you would otherwise not have anywhere else to stay. He also needs to test clean the day before the Pay-Per-View, or he'll be written out of the storyline. That being said, don't try to get him to do anything that would be frowned upon, because as dumb as Roman's been lately, he's still one of my greatest friends in life. And I would hate to see him go down like this."

"I'm chopped liver?"

"You're being forced to stay with him, are you not? That ought to be proof enough for you that I'm just as concerned over your well-being, Renee aside."

Paige sighed, knotting her fingers together on her lap. "I guess. This is just not how I imagined my time off. I feel like I'm suffocating, like I don't have a say in this whatsoever."

"Whatever it takes to keep you both safe and out of trouble," Dean muttered, driving too slowly for the rest of the traffic to handle. People cruised by him, honking and flashing obscene hand signals at him. He was oblivious, and Paige wished she'd offered to drive. They'd already be at their destination; granted, she usually went about ten over the speed limit.

"You know you can go the speed limit," she said in a bored voice, checking her phone for maybe the millionth or so time. Still no texts. No internet connection, and she was running really low on data. She was forced to hang out with the smelly animal that was Ambrose.

"I'm aware, but I don't know this area real well. If I pass Roman's street, there's a bunch of one-way streets that are a pain in the ass to figure out."

Paige sighed, looking out her window and watching houses pass by. Each home looked similar: lovely, well-kept hedges, pristine lawns, and fenced-in yards. Some homes at palm trees, but they all looked expensive.

"Ah, there it is," Dean muttered to no one, taking a quick turn into an equally lavish neighborhood. He stayed on that road for awhile, each house still similar and just as boring as the previous one, until he finally pulled into the driveway of a medium-sized, two-story condo. The lawn was freshly cut, Paige's eyes could tell that as they started to get irritated (thanks, allergies!). Roman was apparently a fan of his privacy, as instead of bushes, he'd opted for large, luscious trees on both sides of his home. There was also a gargoyle that sat at the steps that was creepy and, admittedly, pretty fucking cool.

"I'll grab your bag," Dean offered when she started towards the trunk, her eyes on the home. It seemed out of place in such an otherwise perfect location, and it intrigued her.

She didn't argue with Dean as he propped her bag up on his shoulder, making the lame joke about her bag being full of bricks.

"I can't wear the same thing for thirty days, can I?" she said sharply, annoyed that he'd brought it up.

"It's better than an orange jumpsuit, ain't it?"

"It's pretty close to jail as it is. Let's hope the food's alright."

Dean laughed. "P, Roman is a bomb-ass cook. You don't have anything to worry about in that department."

As if on cue, a huge, lumbering shadow appeared at the door, the little curtain swaying as it was pulled open from the inside. His black hair pulled back into a tight man-bun, and his beard looking grizzlier than normal, Roman gave a small smile as he appeared. His eyes held some kind of sadness, and his smile appeared forced. He opened the screen door, allowing Dean in with Paige's bags. She followed the lunatic at his heels, not saying a word as she was hit instantly with a weird mix of cologne, cookies, and maybe Lysol.

"It's good to see you, man," Dean punched the Samoan's shoulder, a goofy smirk on his face. "You going to live in a cave, or what?" he made a grab at Roman's shaggy facial hair, and the darker man swatted his hand away effortlessly. He gave a true laugh, and Paige was a little bit more at ease. She figured he'd be down in the dumps, too, but it as kind of nice to see a playful side.

"How was the drive?" Roman asked, searching his cupboards for something. In a quick sweep, he had three coffee mugs in his large hand, turning to the Keurig machine that was making a quiet whirring sound.

"Long," Dean gave a stretch.

"Only 'cause Dean-o doesn't like going the speed limit," Paige spoke for the first time. "If he did, we'd probably been here about an hour ago."

Roman gave a small smile, turning away from her. She felt her ego sag a little bit, knowing now that he was equally as excited about sharing his bachelor pad as she was.

"It wasn't that bad, though," Dean took a seat at the island-style table, accepting the black coffee that Roman had sat in front of the smaller man. "I know you made oatmeal cookies, Roman. Don't try to hide them."

Paige sat down next to Dean, accepting her own coffee. Although she didn't particularly care for it, she didn't want to start out on this arrangement on a bad foot with Roman. She saw that he'd placed a small bowl of sugar in the center of the table, though, and she dumped a whole spoonful in.

Dean watched her with a quirked eyebrow, making a face. "That's disgusting," he said when she'd decided she had enough sweetener in it.

"It's drinkable now," she responded, taking a small sip.

Roman sat opposite of them now, putting cookies in the center of the table along with the sugarbowl. Paige laughed at the sight, Roman very much reminding her of a soccer mom right now. Who would've thought that Roman Reigns did such a mom-like thing?

"What?" Dean asked after she'd let out a chuckle.

"I just...never pictured Roman being the baking type," she responded, smashing her lips together so she didn't laugh anymore. He would probably be the type of guy to get offended.

"Baby girl, there's plenty you don't know about me," he stated, not looking her in the eye. He took a drink of his own coffee, made a face, then reached for a spoonful of sugar himself.

"Pussy," Dean jeered as he bit off a chunk of cookie. Roman waved him off, as if deflecting the insult like it was being physically thrown his way. "You'll learn all kinds of fun things about Ro," Dean continued. "Good, dirty details of his private life. You'll be able to sell his secrets to websites. I can see it now: 'Roman Reigns Sleeps in the Nude!'" Dean was now roaring at his own terrible joke, and Paige shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Roman threw another cookie at the sandy-haired man.

"I will not be sleeping in the nude," Roman said to Paige, his voice steady. "And you won't find out anything about me that you didn't already know."

Paige shrugged. "Same," she responded. "Hey, do you mind showing me where I can wash up?"

"Oh, yeah. Here, follow me upstairs. You've got your own bathroom up there."

Paige followed the hulking monster up the stairs, admiring his shoulders as she walked up the smooth, hard-wood stairs. Damn, did that man have some nice muscle tone.

He passed one room with the door partially open. "That's my room. Nothing special about it, and holds no secrets about me," he walked on, and Paige figured he was implying that she ought to steer clear of his bedroom.

 _As if I'd ever be caught dead in it anyways!_

He led her into a small room with a decent-sized bed, covered in a burgundy comforter and matching pillow shams. The curtains were a dark brown with gold, fit for a king. It was tasteful, but still masculine. A large television was mounted across the room, a large oak dresser was pushed on one side of the room, and a closet stood open on the other.

"You can put your things here, and right across the hall is your bathroom. I've got one that connects to my room, so you don't have to worry about fighting me for it." Roman walked out, leaving her to her own devices. She couldn't help but consider how awkward this was for both of them, having never really been this close in quarters with each other before.

She first fell onto the guest bed-her bed, for now-and decided that it was perfect. In fact, she could maybe even nap right now. Forcing herself up before she fell trap to the bed, Paige walked to the room that Roman had pointed as the bathroom, having a sudden urge to pee now that she saw the loo. Funny how that worked; she felt fine the whole time downtstairs, but now she was certain she was going to wet herself.

* * *

"There's gotta be another way," Roman groaned. "It's not that I don't like the girl. She's fine. But you and I both know she's a troublemaker, and the last thing I need is for Del Rio or something to be showing up here."

"Del Rio won't show up here, quit being a baby," Dean countered easily. "She _is_ a troublemaker, and if she doesn't stay out of trouble, she's screwed. Renee was very adamant that we at least try to help her. And to be honest, I'd hate to see her get sent back to NXT. Or worse."

"Why?" Roman asked, curiously. He was also kind of annoyed that Ambrose had let his girlfriend into his mind, getting him to believe that this would be a good idea. "What has she done to earn respect of anyone...like, ever?"

"What have _you_ done?" he jabbed a finger at the larger man. "Look, man. I put my ass on the line for you, and made every attempt to keep you where you belong. The least you can do is have a little respect for that."

Roman cracked his knuckles, a solemn look etched on his face. "I respect what you did for me. But I'm in the middle of a separation, bro. If my wife catches wind that another woman's staying here, she'll grab more of my money than she already has. Not to mention, I like the solitude of being alone in my own home. It's nice to figure out who I am all over again."

Dean made a face. "I know what you're saying, Ro. But believe me when I say, Paige doesn't want to be here, either. I know that it's not ideal, but it'll do you both good. More than you think."

Roman chuckled. "Like I said, she's nothing but trouble. I feel bad for her, and that's why I'm allowing it. I don't like it, though."

"Yeah, well, you haven't seen her like I've seen her. Drunk off her ass, prepared for a creep to shank her in an alley. Feel bad for her all you want, but the only way she's going to really get her ass on track is by serious coaching. Not to mention, she could use a stressful work-out regimen. She's losing muscle tone in her arms."

Roman sighed. "I don't like it, but fine."

"Just don't try any funny business. You know..."

Roman glared at him. "No, actually, I don't know," he said sharply. "I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole," he insisted, his voice even. He was serious. "When you know the things about her that _I_ know, that's some dangerous territory."

"She's a clinger?" Dean jested, winking at his brother. "You know this?"

"She is, but because...well, just because."

Dean smirked, and Roman punched him in the arm. "You really ought to pay attention to people backstage sometime. Might learn a thing or two."

"Or hear complete bullshit that is far from the truth," Paige spoke, entering the room. Both men straightened up, composing themselves. Roman bit his lip, wondering how much of their conversation she'd actually heard. "Did I miss anything? A quick story about my background? An interesting rumor about what guy I've been between the sheets with?" she did a small hip movement with the last statement, similar to that of Big E Langston during promotions with the New Day.

She held up a finger when Dean began to speak. "Nah, I'm not finished. I've been pushed from one place to another like a goddamn cattle. No, it's not my first choice to be here, but it sure as hell beats sitting in a hotel room while all my friends are out and performing and having a good time afterwards. And everything that led up to me being here? Well, it's not like I can deny it, I've fucked up royally and my head's not on right. There's days when I can't even get out of bed. Days when I feel so fucking _sorry_ for myself that I wonder how I'm getting through the day without crying. Every backstage rumor you've heard about me? Well, I can assure you, they're true. But not truth. So everything you think you know about me, everything you think you've heard? Shit's much more different than you think." Paige spoke with a bite to her, not showing any real emotions at all. "Now, as much as I'd love to see you off, Dean, I think it's better that I just don't. Give Renee my farewell. Tell her I'll be a great, law-abiding citizen and in the meantime, all personality I have will be sucked from my soul. Maybe that way, Reigns will actually _get_ a personality."

With that, she turned on her heel, heading back upstairs to the room she'd thrown her stuff in. Now, she felt like a moody bitch, and all she wanted to do was to lay down and take a nap.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to sleep for the next thirty days.


	9. Chapter 8

**Forever having a hard time with this. God, I dislike whatever is or isn't going on with Del Rio and Paige IRL. I thought for sure we were gonna see her on RAW, sucky sucky! It's hard writing when you don't know if a person's employment status...love P, but god I think she's being dumb right now.  
**

 **Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!  
**

 **In other news, I suck at updating...and I have a REAL reason why. I GOT MARRIED. :) Weddings are wayyyy more stressful than I expected.  
**

* * *

Roman Reigns was embarrassed, to say the least.

After the dark-haired former diva's champion had totally told off both himself and Dean, she booked it up to her bedroom, opting to sit out from any further discussion. And while Roman hadn't planned for his guest to overhear his grievances, Paige _had_ heard everything. He supposed that he was in the wrong. He knew a lot more about her than he'd let on, only because of the time spent in NXT together. During his run there, he had kept much to himself, and overheard everything. Back then, when NXT was still a brand new ordeal, the side-project of Hunter Helmsley was buzzing with rumors just as much as a high school's hallways.

She sure had set both former Shield members straight when she gave her little monologue, and now, Roman felt bad. He was supposed to be protecting Paige, and already, he made her feel like shit.

On the other hand, he thought he _had_ been protecting Paige, and he believed that he had-in the past. Come to think of it, he'd protected her against Del Rio just recently. But dammit, this was bordering too far. Dean and Renee were meaning well, but they didn't take into consideration how fucked up the Samoans own life currently was. They'd just assumed that because he was a man with such a giant heart, he'd take this mess of a woman in without a blink of an eye.

Regardless, while Paige was upstairs pouting, both men had awkwardly wrapped up the visit. Dean had jetted quickly, ramming a few of Roman's cookies in his pockets before departing.

Now, for the past two hours, he'd remained downstairs, fiddling around on his phone and keeping up on his social media accounts. He made a point to check Paige's Twitter in hopes to gain insight into her pretty little mind. Unfortunately, she hadn't updated in nearly a week.

Groaning as he finally decided he ought to check on her to be certain she hadn't jumped from the window, he pinched the bridge of his nose knowing fully well how this next task would play out. He found himself climbing his own stairs slowly, like he was afraid to disturb her

 _But it's my damn house!_

When he'd reached her bedroom door, it was closed. Should he just...open it? He decided against that quickly. Women were weird about their privacy, and who knew what Paige was doing in there.

He gave a quick, hard thud of a knock against the door, jumping backwards immediately as it swung open. Paige stood in the doorway, her dark eye makeup smeared on her cheeks. She looked like a raccoon-more so than normal-and either she was crying or napping. Or both.

"Did you come here to give me some half-ass apology?" she asked, stretching her arms above her head. "Won't do you any good, Champ. It's funny that people pretend that I have no idea what they say about me behind my back. What I find to be even more entertaining is how fake they pretend to be to my face."

Roman opened his mouth to comment, but she continued. "I don't need the WWE. I can go back home. I can go to pretty much any other promotion I would want to. Shit, TNA has been after me since I worked along with my mum. I just don't know what I want anymore."

Roman cleared his throat. "You know I'm in a similar situation. My character is falling flat, there are guys that are climbing over me left and right that deserve to be at the top, too. My life outside of work is a joke. And if you want me to be real with you, I will be. I'm not going to be fake to your face...I don't play that petty shit. But if we've got to live out this suspension together, I guess it doesn't hurt to be cool with each other. I mean...no, it's not a perfect situation for you or myself. Some days, I am ready to pack up and follow Damien Sandow and Cody Rhodes to another promotion. But when it comes down to it, I would hate to be without my brothers. Just like you would hate to be without Renee or Alicia."

Paige scoffed. "Fine, you win. I'll behave, hang out with the next John Cena, and re-think quitting my job."

Roman laughed. "Come on downstairs. I'll make you a grilled cheese sandwich."

Paige cast her eyes towards him. "How'd you know that was my favorite?"

Roman shrugged. "I fact-checked things," he replied as he motioned for her to follow him back to the kitchen. "And after that, we gotta watch our carb intake. Back to the gym for us tomorrow."

"Puke," Paige replied sullenly. She wanted to comment on how she could think of better ways for them to remain in shape, but she supposed it was inappropriate, given the situation with his soon-to-be ex-wife. Besides, this was damn Roman Reigns, a colleague that she'd known for years.

"Agreed. Also, if I'm the next John Cena, explain to be how that would be a bad thing. Everyone keeps giving that statement a negative connotation."

"Same gimmick, same shirts, same entrance for ten years? That's not exciting," she responded as she absent-mindedly steadied herself from falling forward on the steps and crashing down by using Roman's ridiculously muscled shoulder for support.

"Maybe, but the guy's got millions. He's a great person. And he's got Nikki...that's gotta be sayin' something."

* * *

Okay, so maybe Paige could've been less of an asshole to the brunt of the Shield men.

She'd heard that he was going through a lot of his own personal problems. After all, he _had_ been hiding out in the lounge of their hotel, taking hits by himself before she'd rained on that parade. And hey, at the time? It was actually fun. The dude that the fans had been rolling their eyes at for the last few months had an actual personality, a spunky side to him. Paige had sort of seen him as the type of guy that was prude; very rules-oriented with no room for a fuck-up. And while she did love stepping into the ring, she hated feeling like she was being held down. She was a bird, dammit, and if she couldn't fly, she felt suffocated.

And now, here she was, sitting in the kitchen of the same guy that she was smoking weed with as he buttered Italian bread to make her a sandwich. It was surreal, it was fucked, but she couldn't help but get some kind of feels for the man. It was obvious that he was off-limits; Dean and Renee would not only kill her, but they'd disown him. Regardless, it was kind of nice to be in this setting with someone who actually gave a rats-ass about her well being. Berto would only take her out to dinner when they 'dated', and that was only when he wanted her to come back to his hotel room. Reigns had no motives; he was just abiding by what he'd been asked to do.

"Sooo..." Paige finally spoke, eager to fill the silence in the air. "Do you just study cookbooks for fun? I admit, the only thing I've heard about you is that you have fantastic physique and you're a badass cook."

Roman chuckled as the butter fizzled against the scorching hot pan. He made his way to the refrigerator, digging around until he extracted sliced cheese.

"Dean sure does know a lot about me, doesn't he?" Roman joked, his eyes catching hers for a single second. "I do like to cook. I know it's lame. I love football, too. Not just because I played, but because it gives me something to look forward to."

Paige shrugged, not wanting to admit that she knew literally nothing about the NFL or college teams.

"My ex-wife loved it, too. It was what brought us together to begin with. Except...I was all about Florida State, she loved Miami. I should've known there was some serious issues from the get-go, just based off from that alone." Roman then laughed at his own joke, and Paige was left clueless. She must've looked like a deer caught in the headlights, because he quickly explained that those two college teams were heated enemies.

"So why are you guys separating for real, then?" she asked as he slid the warm plate across the island counter of his kitchen towards her. She scooped it closer quickly, realizing straight away that this divine-smelling food was going to be way too hot for her right away.

Roman raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure of how to answer her startling question. He remained silent.

"I'm sorry-I don't mean to pry. I just wondered is all. You seem like you've got your shit together," Paige looked down at her bitten fingernails, trying to avoid any further eye contact.

Roman sighed. "I did. I do. She cites my crazy schedule as the reason she can't handle this anymore, and I guess I understand that. It's just sad, you know? Before I even signed the developmental deal for NXT, she knew that the possibility of me traveling for months on end was pretty high. And when I got shot upwards, it just...put more of a strain on everything. It sucks for me, and I've tried everything to change her mind. But she's stuck on us eventually divorcing, and I've got my hands tied. What more can I really do?"

Paige began to eat her delicious, gooey mess of a sandwich that he'd prepared. She pondered this for a moment. It seemed to her that Roman's wife was probably very insecure. Not only was Roman hot, but he was surrounded by some of the most beautiful women she'd ever met. Not to mention, fans were probably throwing themselves in his direction every time he walked down the ramp. Though she wouldn't state her opinion to him out loud, it was something that was likely to be true. After all, her ex was the same way. Jealous, and didn't like when attention was focused on her.

Course, she wasn't usually attracting _good_ attention...but that was beside the point.

"Man, that really sucks," she responded coolly, not knowing what else to say. She was awful at giving any sort of advice, and having never been in much of a serious relationship, she was the last person that should be offering any. "Relationships can be really stupid. I've never been married, of course, so I can imagine that it's harder when there's that...kind of commitment. But you're on top of the world, Roman. Like, you've got it going on. "

Roman sighed. "Yeah, I do. It just would've been nice to be on top of the world alongside of someone I loved. That way, at least I can enjoy the view. It's lonely alone, at the top."

Tearing off the last hunk of her sandwich with her teeth, she decided not to comment further about that. "I hear what you're saying. Still, Champ, it's no reason to get involved in shit that could potentially burn bridges for you. You still have so much potential..." fuck, did she really just say that? She felt like she was a high school counselor. Whatever.

"Listen to you, Dr. Phil," Roman laughed, sitting across from her.

"Who?"

"The doctor on TV who helps people out...with their...problems...nevermind," he replied, embarrassed. "I haven't been getting out much, okay?"

"So basically having me around is the most interesting part of your suspension?"

"Something like that. But hey, what about you? What in the hell is going on with you?"

Pushing her plate away after gobbling the last bit of golden-brown bread crust, Paige crossed her arms awkwardly and leaned into the table. "I don't need another lecture, honestly," she said pointedly. "I know that I have been setting bridges of my own in flames. But hear me out. I adore my friends from NXT. Sasha, Bay, Becky...they all deserve to be on the main roster. I suppose Charlotte deserves to be there, too, but she's hardly a friend of mine."

Roman nodded solemnly, letting her explain her case.

"I just wish that the rest of us who weren't trying to reach for a title at the moment had some reason to go out there every night. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to so much as sniff the belt again. But since winning it from AJ, I've done basically nothing. I feel like I've let down my fans. I let down my family, for sure."

"You know how the management is, though," Roman pointed out. "If you do anything out of line, they make you sit out on the sidelines. And I know you've been misbehaving, because if you were being straight, you wouldn't be sitting at my house in the same predicament as I am."

Paige cracked her knuckles in response. "Well, maybe I'm sick of sitting on the sidelines. If I jumped ship to another promotion, I could do better than I'm doing now. But we all know that I won't go anywhere."

"What even offset this behavior from you? Total Divas?"

With that comment, Paige seemed to stiffen. "Why do you say that?" she asked, turning to finally look into his eyes. Damn, his eyes were beautiful; a steely blue-gray that were fierce. She could see, somewhere in those eyes, the hurt he was feeling.

"I've just watched it, is all. I understand what it's like to have a fuckton of money all at once and how it can change the way you act. Believe me, I can wrap my head around that one. It just seems to me that having the world know some of your secrets, even the painful ones, aren't doing you any favors."

Paige stood up suddenly, catching the Samoan off-guard. "I really do appreciate you making me some dinner. I'm gonna go wash up and hit the hay," she stretched, feigning a yawn to avoid any further discussion. She could see where this conversation could begin heading, and the last thing she wanted to do was have a pity-party for her dumb ass life choices when she'd first started.

How embarrassing for her, now knowing that Roman knew some of the things she'd discussed on the show alongside Foxy and Rosa. While Paige probably should've expected that people she knew in real life were gaping at her unpretty, exposed parts, it just seemed hard to believe that Roman would be one of them. If anything, she'd expected him to be the type to completely denounce the Total Divas television show and all that it stood for.

"Paige, I'm sorry if I offended you-"

"No, it's cool. Really," she said quickly, heading back towards the steps leading upstairs.

"If you confronted your demons, I can almost promise that things could get better for you. Believe that," he said lightly, trying to get her a smile. Instead she rolled her eyes and gave him the middle finger.

"I don't confront my demons, Reigns, I cuddle with them," she responded. "You know what I think? I think your wife is opting out because she knows that, if you wanted to, you could be with any woman in the world. She feels like a potato. Have you done a fucking thing to prove her otherwise? Nah. You've been busy wetting your hair down and showing off your muscles to the world. And to an ordinary, insecure person...it's frightening to see. Prove to her that nobody but her matters. And as for me? I don't really want to look back at the past any more than I already have. The pain and heartache of getting used and abused is harder than I ever thought imaginable. The pain and heartache of losing a piece of what was me...a baby...well, that's something that can wreck a life."

Roman tried to protest, to continue their discussion, but she was already flying up the stairs. He could hear her fiddle with the shower, probably trying to understand the complex hot/cold system that was set up.

Disappointed in the evening's end, Roman knew that he had to build a trust with this woman before she'd tear down walls for him. They had a long while to go with this arrangement, and the easier, the better. Unfortunately, tonight he'd seemed to make a few advances, but only to tumble a mile backwards. Paige was a tough girl to crack. And while normally he wouldn't give a flying fuck what this brat had to say, he was both terrified and intrigued by her. He had a soft spot for her as it was.

Tomorrow, he decided, would be a better day.


End file.
